Marla couldn’t remember who the man in the photograph was.Read More Every Day
One evening Xavier woke up in a strange room with the feeling he was not himself. His neck was stiff and his limbs were bloated and heavy. The soft and silky bedsheets he was lying on eased the soreness in his muscles somewhat. But when he tried to lift his head off a pillow, the stiffness forced him to recline again, reminding him painfully of his strange and precarious situation.Read More Blood is Thicker
I was clearing out my parents’ house when I found a box of old photographs in the attic.Read More If Not Nostalgia, Then What?
Avon Newbury was the villain in our neighborhood, an aberration we tolerated the way folks tolerate cockroaches or rats. There were rumors about him for years, though nobody could ever say if they were true or not. The stories we heard seemed to exist only in the past––stories about little girls, about charges made, charges […]Read More The Luckiest Girls in Town
This is the man whose voice sent us trembling to our rooms; the man whose slaps across our cheeks sent us hurtling into streets looking for that elusive dream: men whose touches don’t leave bruises, welts and tears.Read More Bruises
She rubbed her eyes twice when she saw the hand. It lay between the rows of collard greens, gray and waxen, cut clean at the wrist, with dull fingernails, clenched fingers, clotted blood around the clean, white bone. It looked like something for sale at a Halloween store, something trickster children might use to scare […]Read More A Sense of Humor
Because the dishwasher broke down and we had spent our last savings on paying for the dog’s surgery, and because we agreed to share dishwashing duties in the meantime while you waited for business to pick up; and because I came home last night tired after working overtime and you surprised me with making chicken […]Read More Domesticity