Category Archives: Fiction

(5) Linda clicked the “send” on the e-mail to her brother as Mark came in through the kitchen door. She heard “I’m home!” while she twisted to a stand, and she strode with rare eagerness to hear how school had … Continue reading →

(3) “Is it still hot?” Jenny’s tone was hopeless as she pushed her cheek into her pillow. She hated the heat. She was born and raised in Snohomish, near Seattle, Washington, and her decade in Atlanta had not accustomed her … Continue reading →

(1) Grace’s arms and legs were stippled with goose bumps. This was particularly annoying because she hated the sight of her bare flesh, and she would have been in all ways more comfortable if she were covered. “It’s summertime, dammit,” … Continue reading →

A few minutes pass. Cecie has cycled from customary resentment about her mother to fondness for Wayne’s adoration. A brisk knock on her office door startles her. “Yes?” her voice creaks a little. Carmen puts her pretty face around the … Continue reading →

No: Cecie will accept Wayne first and tell Cass later. With that decision, she walks to the door of her office. She hangs her Ms. C. Collins  nameplate and looks toward Carmen. The game of musical chairs is down to … Continue reading →

Cecie’s day starts well and gets better. She has an excellent workout at her club; now that she’s on the other side of 50 she appreciates any day she doesn’t need ibuprofen. When she arrives at work the children are … Continue reading →

It wasn’t a hip ambition, but I wanted to be Mrs. Joe. I practiced writing my married name: Angie Greenfield, Angelica Greenfield, Joseph and Angel Greenfield. It’s fun to remember all of this without regret and anxiety. I must reminisce … Continue reading →

I want coffee. That’s the other quick alimentary change I made when we moved here: marmalade to jelly and tea to coffee. Lovely dark thick coffee. Energy-packing java. Muddy old Joe. It was Joe who introduced me to it. The … Continue reading →

My name is Angelica Wickersham-Taylor. I was born without the “Taylor,” in London, in 1948. I’m the beloved only child of a nurse mother and pilot father; it took two libidinous post-war years to produce me, and none came after … Continue reading →

I walked off to junior high that first day feeling like a big kid. I was then just under five feet in height; I was to grow seven inches in the ensuing three years. I was two years away from … Continue reading →