It was 1987, and I was eighteen years old. My parents made me get a post-graduation summer job in the cafeteria of the local college, a liberal arts school…
Callie and I were thirteen the summer of ‘87, the summer the Los Angeles Lakers won the World Championship. During the school months, we were required to wear the…
You won’t have heard about what happened to my brother. Not on the news, certainly. With things on like wars and hurricanes, the news doesn’t have much time for…
And the barbarous people shewed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, because of the present rain, and because of the cold.…
There was blood. And unspeakable pain, which rolled and clenched in hard, burning waves. Sarah spent two days in the bathroom, watching the summer rains through the window and…
I met Gabe Dove when I was sad and attracting men who liked me sad. There was the jeweler with goopy eyes, the lawyer who overtexted. Men with lotioned…
Spring rains had cut little gullies into the caliche topping beyond the cattle guard. Washed out the soil beneath right down to the hardpan. I got off my bike…
That last night at home, Michael sat with his father at the fireside, barely an arm’s reach apart, the turf in the hearth between them burning shades of fox-fur…
Each night at dusk we built our fire in the usual spot, back from the water’s edge, camouflaged by white-barked birches and scraggly pines. We sprawled our bodies across…