The doors open into a spectacle of love. A Celebration of Love, according to the red letters scrolling across the marquee. White orchids, pink peonies, and red roses strewn across shimmering chandeliers. On stage, beneath strobe lights, a six-man ballet troupe with tense quadriceps and purple velvet sashes—but now with streaking faces, like melting dolls….
Today I took the morning off and went to the art gallery in our neighborhood. It still amazes me that I live in a neighborhood that has an art gallery. It amazes me that I own a home, that I have children. What happened between ages thirty and forty to get me here? How did…
It was a biblical June. All Connecticut Junes are wet, but this year the rain refused to quit. The year-rounders shook their heads, apologizing to the summer folks for the weather, as though they were somehow responsible for the ruined picnics and flooded back roads. They had never in all their years seen the likes….
Closing in on Missoula from NYC, she’s sped through ten states, stopping only for gas and an Airbnb in Minnesota. You’d think she’d be relieved or feel something like anticipation, but her eyes are half-lidded, devoid of all emotion. The speed-limit sign clearly says 80 mph now, and the Big Sky is no sky at…
It’s not that I think Elodie borrowed my vintage Balenciaga coat on purpose the day she disappeared, and I am just as desperate as the others to find her, but I hadn’t wanted to relinquish the coat and wonder now, if I had held firm, would it still be in its cedar-lined box under my…
After I died, I found myself standing on a narrow stone bridge. In the middle of it was a woman cooking a pot of soup, and though she had a crooked back, had wrinkles deep as ravines crisscrossing on her face, her eyes were youthful—the whites were the palest shade of blue. Recalling the stories…
Cora holds the baby until Matt leans in and takes her back. She can smell the oily lank of his hair, the sweet of his breath. She’d suggested a hotel room—there must be something nearby, she said, but her daughter insisted she stay in the apartment with them. Families belong together, she said. Cora’s daughter…
Before, the space, the first floor of my apartment building that was rented out to business, had been an Escape the Room. Groups of friends booked and were trapped in adventure rooms, then given an hour to find a way out. The game was supposedly great for team-building, or so advertised the storefront posters, but…
Ignacio smiles at Amaia, a wildness in his eyes, then says, “This is it,” and rolls down his window. The traffic cop faces them, neither curious nor annoyed at their appearance on this quiet dirt road. Ignacio hooks his arm over the open window, lifts his chin, attempts casualness. “Aupa.” And had he not done…
Winter 1986 - Digital
1 × $6.99 
Fall 2005 - Digital
1 × $6.99 
Spring 1993 - Print
1 × $14.00 Subtotal: $27.98