The first skin graft wasn’t so bad. I came to under bright spotlights, watching Ma-lee’s tight face fade in and out of focus and catching vague blurs of pink lips. A morphine-induced merge of metal and skin nodding approvingly down at me in the hospital bed.
Read MoreSweetheart ShowdownSure, I know what you want to hear about. You want to hear about the Civil War. I’ve already been interviewed, and that’s all anybody wants recollected. Yes, I know, I do look too young to have seen it.
Read MoreThe ProwlOf all the curators at the Samuel Mather Parrington Museum, I liked Michael Overton the least. He was a loud, bustling, back-slapping man, red-faced and brash and quite, quite stupid.
Read MoreThe Yellow Dressing GownI’m not a music person. Father has all sorts of things in the house that can still play, and he listens to them on occasion, but I never cared. I have no need of borrowed emotions; my own are more than enough for me.
Read MoreFaithful CityMy little brother Joe grew up too fast for his own good. My mom was the first to see what we were in for. Soon after Joe’s birth, when the nurse put him in her arms, the first thing he did, still pink and slimy, was smile the gummy, wry smile of a little old man.
Read MoreThe 24 Hour BrotherDagmar was doomed to run. Feet in stiff, new trail shoes flexing, hitting. The sharp ache of each stride in knees no longer accustomed to the pressure.
Read MoreThe Leavings of the WolfFor Susan, love was just something that crept up on her. There was no such thing as falling in love, falling simply wasn’t part of the process; the most Susan could manage would be an odd stumble every now and then.
Read MoreThis Creeping ThingThe notebook is on your nightstand, and it’s all that’s left of her in the thin morning light. It’s tattered—old blue cloth-covered thing, white cardboard showing through at the edges and corners. Looks like it’s ridden in her pocket for some time.
Read MoreI Am Thinking of You in the Spaces BetweenFinding the entrance to the labyrinth is easy; you think you’ve hidden it well, but you’re fooling yourself. I slip in while you’re sleeping, pacing out the first long sweep, that outer lane, full of car brands and the girls you’ve known. This part is always cluttered but still interesting to me.
Read MoreTo the Mistress of the Labyrinth Give Honey