In the morning, she walked down to the end of the dock. In the early light, she sat, her legs hanging off the edge, toes very nearly reaching the water. In the water, small fish swam. In her stomach, a small rumbling began, but it had nothing to do with the fish or the water or the light or the dock. In the weathered house behind her, the children stirred.
Crash
October 20, 2007“And that’s when I knew it was time to get a new car,” said the Realtor at the tire store. “It’s hard to flirt with the OnStar lady with a mouth full of airbag.”
Retired from pie
October 18, 2007I baked a boysenberry pie with a lattice crust, hoping it would function as performance art. The positive reviews resounded, but it did not make a difference–I was no closer to where I hoped I’d be than if I hadn’t baked the pie in the first place.
Since then, I’ve given up desserts, reverted to working in meats and fish, solid food that better serve the body. He eats them, his only review a solid nod.
Adirondack
October 16, 2007We tried not to rock our chairs. We might have spilled our dinners. We reached across to each other. We held hands. We let go. We let go. We let go.
Corner roses
October 14, 2007As Mary searched for the perfect half-dozen lavender roses at the flower stand outside her office, she said, “I’m just not finding what I’m looking for here.”
“That’s because I’ve been keeping the best ones back here.” With a flourish, Sherman presented her the six-stem bouquet, no bruised petals, no brown edges. “I even broke off the thorns for you.”
Mary reached for her wallet, but he waved.
“They’re on me. Beautiful roses for my most beautiful customer.”
When her husband called, she sent him straight to voicemail. After all, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought her flowers.
This bar will do until next year
October 12, 2007“If the Cubs go to the playoffs, we’re only going to serve between innings,” the bartender said.
“Well,” said the man with a PBR tallboy, “then I’m going to have to find another bar.”
Angled
October 10, 2007The only light fell across them from the garage. She clutched the steering wheel and smiled, but not at him, just into the space between the car and the house. He lingered. She kept her body angled at something closer to 35 or 45 degrees – she hoped it said what she wasn’t able to put between them.
100 Proof 