The woman from the elevator stood banging her head against my neighbor’s door. She was soaking wet, her blouse transparent and wearing a wet paper bag around her waist. Karmically dressed, I mused, still angry about the. I opened my door a crack and her eyes widened as she recognized me. She slumped against the…
The lock snicked as I bent over to retrieve the broken bag of flour that had fallen through the wet paper bag. A tug against my waist and I knew the day had gone from bad to ludicrous. My skirt, now wedged tightly between the locked car door held me captive. Turning I could see…
The elevator doors opened and the two passengers looked up, horrified. I stepped in and they scurried out. The taller one choked an apology as the doors closed. I heard peals of laughter shrieking as the elevator continued its descent. And then… the odor assaulted me. To my mortification, the elevator doors opened and my…
Her hips were no longer her own, instead replaced for the third time, with the latest and greatest alloy that would last her entire life. Now. At eighty four, it was guaranteed she wouldn’t need another surgery. At eighty four, most of her parts were enhanced with technology, or sagging, or ached. She looked over…
The Puzzle The day is warm and yet she dressed for winter. For three consecutive days I’ve watched her push an empty, bulky stroller up the hill. Her limp gets more pronounced just before the crest. An empty stroller. A child lost, perhaps? She walks with purpose, not the anxious steps of a frantic mother….
Her ethereal beauty astounds me. Waterhouse perfectly captured the muted sunlight in her hair. But what moves me beyond comprehension is her expression; wonder, wistful, wanting and acceptance of her fate. Cursed, and yet more – she is enchanted. Her love for him is enough to willingly accept death. Could I ever love someone so…
I salute you as you stand and battle cat hair, dog vomit, and burned tomato sauce on your ceramic stove top. Last November I joined a writing group in my area and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. First of all, some of these folks are wicked talented. Out of the…
This short story is for mature audiences only. Fleet Week I love Fleet Week. First of all, as a single woman of average beauty and ridiculous height I find myself feeling like I’m a super model for an entire week. My hips sway more, my hair seems to behave for the entire week, and those…
September 4, 2018
September 5, 2015
February 22, 2022
English