A Beautiful, Fragile Thing We had arrived late for the train, coming up the ramp just as it was pulling away, its horn sounding like the mating cry of a beached whale. I remember my mother, flying up the ramp, both arms spread out above her, her fingers spread as if to grip the train’s
Once by the Short Hairs
There was a one-way look on her face. Hardness curved her lips, moved out from her eyes in spider web lines on skin that once had been softer. At will her eyes appeared to recess into a center of cold calculation. Only once did she soften her
A Timeless Man You are fifty-four years old. You are visiting your youngest son Jay in the mountain town where Jay lives when he suggests the two of you venture out to a waterfall popular among the locals. You might want to borrow a pair of swim trunks, Jay says, to which you nod gamely, eager for
A Crash in Boston I was sitting in the living room of the house where I had grown up, waiting for Mr. Kaminski, drumming my fingers on my suitcase, and hoping my mother wouldn’t stop cleaning the kitchen until we had to say goodbye. Mr. Kaminski was heading over to drive me to Logan Airport.
Black Out The music is so loud I’ve stopped hearing it. Instead I just feel it in my neck and my gut. I couldn’t tell you what this song is. I don’t know if that has anything to do with how much I’ve had or just that I don’t really know dance music. I’ve stopped
