Robert S. Brunk
In February of 1985, my third year in the business, I received a call . . .
“Where are you from?” “What’s home?” “America, France, Israel . . .”
. . . it was the last sentence of that note, scrawled on tissue—paper-thin, cream stationary, which made me pause . . .
Twelve years old, I walk barefoot down our driveway to retrieve the Los Angeles Times. It’s still early . . .
Some look forward to the visit to the doctor with great anticipation . . .
Mom keeps looking at the swirl. I try to pull her out of it by asking what she’s thinking. Then I ask again, louder this time . . .
I once stood before that bank’s line of tellers until I thought they must be suspicious of me, staring up at that picture like a man planning a financial withdrawal by force. I was in fact trying to . . .
John E. Keats
In my first full-time job out of high school, during the reckless eighties, I met an actual crazy woman . . .
. . . their tendrils weaving a web over the house–sealing windows, shuttering doors, barring all comings and goings, wrapping us tight within–and imprisoning us . . .
My mother has brown eyes. She used to love to read . . .
We are on the outskirts when we spy a mushroom cloud over the town. The cloud, capped like a giant Cremini mushroom, billows thick and trails a dark grayish substance in its mushroom stem. It looms dark against a clear sky over . . .
Leaving home was an immensity. I’ve been trying all my life to . . .
Michelle Shappell Harris
All manner of people have their secrets. And buildings, for that matter . . .
Erika Reich Giles
The cloud cover that blanketed Europe on our flight from Amsterdam dispersed as we approached Budapest . . .I was giddy with excitement and danced out of the plane . . .
I dressed carefully the day I decided to be a girl . . .
“. . . at last you’ve got your brother back!”
Michael L. Johnson
Some years ago British researcher Paul McDonald and his team at the University of Wolverhampton completed their quest for the world’s oldest recorded joke. Among their discoveries was a riddle . . .