Night-time, mid-week and liberated by fake ID we’re out. My teenage friend is sprawled across a car bonnet boyfriend on top riding and grinding her.

My husband didn’t make it on Marcel Proust’s Questionnaire—he didn’t even come close.    My idea of happiness?   I nodded and played back memories

It’s no accident that I’m writing to you poolside from a rehab on the west coast of Phuket rather than from the library at Sing

Chrissie decides that anyone who gives her shit about her marriage is unfair.  So she remarried within eight months of Linton’s suicide.  So she barely

***TW: This story references assisted suicide.   We sit side by side on the bed, you and I, our shoes on the floor, our best

I was the only imperfect child. My five older siblings and I were all born in a kiddie pool my mom’s doula filled halfway with

In late spring, the tiny hitchhiker got a ride with Calvin and Jess as they left the Des Moines hotel they’d stayed at for their

“You’re my Darcy,” Susan said. “My Captain Wentworth.” Her mane of black hair fell over her eyes as she dipped her head.  “Darcy? Wentworth?” I

She said there was something about the way I look when I am tired that made her fall in love with me. It was Saturday.

  Four walls, three couches, eight chairs, two doors. No windows. The room is lit by fluorescent tubes recessed into a white pressboard ceiling, mercifully

My father stands on the bow of the small flatboat, his eyes behind polarized glass peering into the deep blue water, hunting. Among anglers who

I opened the door to a leggy, slightly bunny-toothed mouth breather. Sixfooter. Jelly-bean blue eyes. Rippling wheaten hair. Bare midriff garnished with a tasteful five-pointed

He’d made a mistake in coming here. The taxi idled at the curb, one cylinder missing its spark and inciting an anxious, irregular chuff to

When I was dying, my daughter flew north to say goodbye. Her beloved said that when I heard my daughter’s voice, my heart beat stronger.