My mysterious neighbor’s lips curve in a sardonic smile and a single eyebrow rises mockingly when I hand her the bag.
I wasn’t prepared for the hormone-induced anxiety that accompanied my first pregnancy.
He plays gin, without cards and without any other players.
As I stumbled through the prayer book, I thought of my own bat mitzvah.
“What are you doing still awake?” followed by “Do you want a snack?”
“Can I tattoo you?” asks six-year-old Andrew.
Dad said, Come over honey, I'll cook steaks. He had a new roommate again.
The coins hit with a clink, clunk, and clang as I tossed them into his can.
Stuck in commuter traffic hell, I went Live on Facebook, jimmy-rigging my phone to the dashboard, offering viewers many minutes of stream-of-consciousness chatter.
“How much is your little angel?” It was the last one in my craft stall, lovingly made with beads and wire.
I barely spoke to him; I imagined that he barely knew who I was.
It’s a sunny day but the bedroom, its windows still shuttered, is dark and foreboding with a damp, slightly fetid odor.
My uncle’s friend Alice has sent me an email with old photos attached.
Who said hell was a burning pit below? My hell is suspended ten kilometers above ground.
My mother calls at 4:17 p.m. the day before Thanksgiving to tell me I was born 51 years ago today.
As they passed one another, their yearning was so intense that their bodies strained toward one another across the water.
You, a woman steeped in tradition, find me utterly incomprehensible.
I shouldn’t have had expectations for C, but I was surprised when she was delayed in rolling …
There was enough food and enough clothing and enough room in our home when I was growing up, but only just enough.
I have always been a kid attracted to gaps, running my tongue through missing teeth, seeing what would fit in my belly button.