“If you can hear my voice, you’re part of tonight’s audience.” What begins like a late-night opening monologue turns into a brutal broadcast from the middle of planetary occupation.
A woman watches the polished version of herself she has built online until a friend’s video forces her out of performance and into panic.
A dinner meant to save a marriage becomes a quiet reckoning. In Fine Dining (Aubade), every gesture — a sip, a silence, a final drive — cuts deeper than words. ...
“We were home from college and back with our parents. We didn’t want to barricade the door or worry who might be behind on the other side. All we wanted ...
It usually took an hour to get to her office so that was annoying in itself. I’ve reached the point where a 20-minute drive makes me start looking for a ...
“But I am not hungry; I just ate.”
“So sorry, but that’s the policy. You want to use our restroom, no problem. But you must be a customer first and ...
The later life and decline of a woman who lives with lust and adventure.
A young Moroccan woman corresponds with her mother during lockdown.
How to deal with inconsiderate neighbours. In one chilling step
An act of vandalism is woven into the danse macabre of five lives
Being a tree wasn’t dull at all. Everything else dripped away – my mother and father, my white bed, my body, Napoleon and his death march to Russia, declensions, young ...
A young woman marries beneath her family’s standing and awaits her husband’s ravishing on her wedding night.
Behind her, she hears him call, but lets his voice float away and mingle with the noise of the evening, the distant tinkling of cutlery, laughter, an owl hooting somewhere ...
I floated after her on a vapour trail of her scent, the lingering taste of Willa Jean and her Sazerac on my tongue, and Miles Davis in my soul.
Experience the guilt of making love under the crucifix. Experience the thrill.
The magnificent battles of wild horses….
Behind the mask, your sensations are limited to degrees of pressure.. and you extend your gloved hand
A son’s college funds are spent on an old Chevette. Enter the young man’s mother.
As I heard the heavy thud of the front door close, I walked to my son’s room, locked the door, and crawled in his bed. Then I lit a match.
I’d pat my hump and he’d twist his torso. It reminded me of the way he turn his entire face away when we had sex. How, from the bed, he’d ...