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I unfolded the fading black and red dhurrie on the floor and placed my sitar on it. My grandmother shuffled to the sofa, sat and picked up one foot and folded it under the other thigh. I brought her...

The Asshole

He was not a very good person. He was, by many accounts, vile, impolite, crude, inappropriate, ignorant, insensitive, and offensive. He was a gifted asshole, a precocious prick, a well-rounded, ahead-of-the-curve, 40-under-40 douchebag- the kind of person whom other...

Keepers

I know that on good nights they’ll drink a decent bottle of wine or two and sit on their kitchen counters and play Catchphrase. They’ll yell at each other with purple-teethed smiles and clap when someone has the insight...

Fern Gully

If, on a first and final return to your parents’ island as a unit, your family must choose between routes to Jamaica’s northern coast from Kingston, know this: Both twist over cliffs, at inclines that compel drivers to build...

An Awesome Gap

Around the corner, the lot opened up and the asphalt smoothed out. The rough patches disappeared and Patrick glided along, gaining speed as he headed for a concrete barrier. A half dozen of them sat angled in different directions,...

Isle of Delights

The lake was alive with lights: the lanterns on the boats golden and round like hundreds of miniature suns, and the moon so heavy on the horizon it seemed impossible it would climb any higher in the sky. The...
The protagonist of the novel I will never write is kind of like me. Except more articulate. And cleverer. And a bit more handsome. And, if I’m real honest, his life-story’s a lot more interesting than mine. But he...

Nathaniel

It was the year you turned fourteen and we found out Molly was allergic to olives. The year the snowmobile slid down the bank on its own accord, gliding across the frozen lake and falling through thin ice; the...

Sugar on Snow

Everyone was home for the wake, even those who were tired from sitting with Papa Ned and waiting. He had made them wait so long. The floors in the house were pickled with sand and salt from people wearing...

The Memorialist

The heart-shaped pink granite headstone he had picked up south of Boston made it hard for Alex to sidle his pickup truck into a parking spot near his wife’s apartment.

The Paint

Sitting on a basketball at half-court, Jim is telling the boys the fundamentals of the game. Mason and Jimmy listen intently. Well, as intently as can be expected from a five and seven-year-old. Everything is just so interesting on...
Phinn took a sip of rye. He wasn’t inclined toward hard spirits but he hoped it would quiet his thoughts, blunt his worries. He wanted to go out but the snow would make it difficult, if not impossible. Still,...
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