The Lonely Hearts Club

The debutante to my right insists that I take her second Arby’s chicken patty. “You look hungry,” she says before bustling off to the bathroom, from which she will emerge in a blond wig and long white dress, its square neckline just low enough that she must continually tug it up with one demurely-gloved hand. […]



He lost five hundred dollars; I lost two hours. It’s impossible for me, as a rational person, to feel wronged. In Perth Amboy, and probably everywhere else, you can’t charge someone with intangibles: the reading abandoned, the composure shattered, the discomfort you inflicted on strangers, or the discomfort they inflicted on you. Not even, at […]

Personal Essay