In my dream, we are driving so fast the car sprouts wings—giant, bony, feather-covered wings—and we are flying like gulls, steady, just above the surface of the glossy pavement. Everyone is laughing bubbles and confetti and the wind laces...
Last year, two days after Christmas and around three that afternoon, I passed out in the foyer of my home in Montclair, New Jersey. I hadn’t even had a drink, and I considered that fact, lying there on the hardwood floor, staring up, coming...
No sooner had the taxi lurched into the traffic than Rowen’s father leaned forward in the seat. “Oh, no, we don’t.” He put his hand on the driver’s shoulder and said something in Vietnamese. Before the driver had fully registered...
Paul, in this case, is a widower. His wife died thirteen years ago. He kept their daughter away as much as he could. There were relatives around to play with her, to shower her with gifts and praise. His wife grew pale in the study. Her...
