Photons

Photons

Reeve is an artist. He’s sketching his wife Ellen, how she might look in thirty years. He is adding depth to her expression—her eyes pushed back by what she’s seen and felt, her bones more prominent. He uses the charcoal pencil to shade the shadows of her face. He...
Road Crew

Road Crew

It was the summer after I quit minor-league ball. (“Quit” is a relative term. My arm was not up to the task.) Working on the county road crew, driving around in the same orange truck all day with the windows rolled down. Every day was incredibly hot. We filled in...
How to Be a Hero

How to Be a Hero

I. Office Politics Don’t linger on the fact that you recognize him from accounts receivable, or that he holds what appears to be a semi-automatic gun. Instead, act at once. Shout for others to run. Keep shouting even after he points the weapon in your direction....
The Sea

The Sea

There once was a man who fell in love with the sea. When he woke in bed at night, he did not look at his wife. He did not touch the thighs that he had been given by her, or gaze with desire at the nipples that had hardened in the cold that the wind brought in. He rose...
Remembering Em

Remembering Em

REMEMBER EM THOSE COFFEE SLEEVES THEY SCRIBBLE ALL THE NAMES ON? So they know who to call? Caramel no-whip choke artist for Carl? Venti skinny-dicked frapplerock for Eleanor? Well, what if they all ended up in the same pile? Cardboard headstones. Excuse me: not...