I grew up expecting them, dreading them, that appointed hour in biology class when the dead—or worse—the still-alive-and-only-just-anesthetized frogs would be presented to us for dissection. I pictured the…

  Your father’s tufted rocking chair ruled the living room corner in his absence, gathering dust motes and Marlboro ash. If you insisted, it would rock with a groan that…

  I’m trying to date you. You’re late. Or I’m late. Our timing is already off. We met online. OkCupid or Plenty of Fish. My pictures are a decade old.…