Kate held up a foot-long strand of my wavy brown hair and opened her scissors. “Are you sure […]
During breaks he would sit in his car and drink and she would sit beside him, running her […]
When Noah opened his door to retrieve his newspaper and saw the baby swaddled in the basket, he assumed it was dead.
“The wash of grey was complete, as though the car had been submerged in cement. Brian felt at once claustrophobic. He laid on the horn, hoping that Anna would follow the sound back. She didn’t, or couldn’t. The snow battered the windows with such a rage that he feared they might shatter. Brian watched the passenger window, waiting for the press of Anna’s hand against it. Still, she failed to appear.”
“This is the beginning of the story, I thought. It could be published in some serious-minded magazine with monochrome photos of rusted bicycles.”
She wanted to kiss her. They were sharing an ice cream cone and those lips were taunting her. […]
This essay was originally printed in The Fem Literary Magazine in May 2015. I’ve recently learned that the inverse […]