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Peter Makuck


In a Field of Force

Autumn 1974 | Fiction

His mother cupped her palm over the mouthpiece and aimed the black receiver at his chest. "Gino," she said in a thin reedy whisper, "you talk to him and be civil."

A Perfect Time

Hank came to the window again. It was sunny and blue but still too windy, whitecaps all the way to a tiny freighter that held down the far horizon. On the beach, waves were tall and broke far from shore, giving long rides to the kids on boogie boar [...]

Big In Osaka

The side of the coach was stainless steel; it was polished and so clean I would have seen myself perfectly except for the horizontal fluting. The end of a pleasant two-day trip; it put me in mind of some train traveling I had done in Europe. Amtrak [...]