Fiction

Michael Bonacci died the night of the Father-Daughter Dinner Dance.  He died at home in his bathroom.  Technically, it was the next day.  Like Cinderella, Michael might have joked, he expired just after midnight, his lungs filled, his heart aflutter, … Continue reading →

There are stories Marvin likes to tell now that he is rich.  When you have everything, sometimes you like to remind people you once had nothing.  He believes, maybe, that this imparts a lesson of some sort, to his graduate … Continue reading →

                                                                    I. Just before going on stage, Benny released the lock on his wheelchair and tucked an orange into his jacket pocket.  He could feel it there, its weight. He had brought it to eat at lunch, but now tried … Continue reading →

Hired specifically to teach “Paper, Clay, Wood, and Cloth,” a class in basic craft skills, to eight- and nine-year-olds, I was 16 when I worked as a counselor/teacher at the Rock Point summer camp.  Even though I didn’t like having … Continue reading →

I cheated on my husband to prove something to my sister. When Paul’s mouth first leaned toward mine, his lips in that teasing smile that just about killed me, so different from my husband’s, I wasn’t thinking, Oh shit, this … Continue reading →