FICTION
A love story

I am trying to write a story—a love story—about a man and a woman I know. I’ll call them Satoshi and Yuriko. I am writing and erasing, writing and erasing. Sometimes I think I should stop trying. Or write instead in Japanese. But if so, how to title the story?

Conrad Whom I Don’t Care About

I open my eyes that morning and see Dan’s head.

Cenotaph

Memories? The memory is of nothing. The memory is of abortion and not-being. What was it that I had said about the repulsion of the […]

Red Light

They say that red light is more calming for safari animals. The exit signs are red.   The conductor came by to take my ticket. […]

Something Other

Deborah was a rebel child before she met me. You can see it in the old photographs. The one I love best is taped to […]

Funeral

Carmen is the one who finds Sarah’s body. It is in the shed beside the dock behind the blackened burnt shell of a house in […]

Children With Playthings

“My cousin Jeannie has a nose like a e-le-phant!” It’s true — Jeannie the Meanie does have a nose like an e-le-phant. But no one […]

Octavian Love Letters

Hail. Everybody hail Augustus. Augustus, who didn’t need glasses; Augustus, my friend. Augustus and I haven’t spoken in ten years, and he is not missing. […]

Cicadas

They appeared in the night. Milo heard them first, from outside of his bedroom window — a low buzz, deep buzz, a buzz that sank […]

Jenna

Sunlight. The room is touched with yellow. She rolls over. She is fourteen and her bed is covered in eyelets, a bedspread bought when she […]

The Sleuths Will See You Now

Like the décor of my old pediatrician’s waiting room, the design of the Insect Inquiry Office at the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station (CAES) kindly informs you of […]