Charlie stood on the porch waving. Well-done Charlie, the oldest son, the abider, the Oak Park of the family, the village closest to their father, who was Chicago itself.
Tag: relationships
All the Way Home by Fred Vogel
“I ran all the way home, just to say I’m sorry.” The Impalas (1959)
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It was his wife, Amylyn, who had initiated the separation. She was hoping to light a spark under his lazy butt. But instead of grasping the importance of what his wife was trying to say to him, Sean motored down to Portland and met Charlene at a vegan strip club. Continue reading “All the Way Home by Fred Vogel”
Redundant Satellites by Martyn Clayton
The fog had crept up the river. It eased its way around the buildings, down the narrow streets before finally pushing its way through the open window of Stella’s flat.
Old Folks Home by Wim Hylen
The new arrival, Tony, insisted on being the center of attention at all times. He was like an actor on stage playing to a rapt audience. Some of the residents found him to be a breath of fresh air. But I thought the air he brought into the place stunk.
Home by Nancy Nau Sullivan
I can only see the top of my daughter’s head from where I sit. She is cuddled up to her furry orange pillow, her hair pulled into a wobbly knot.
“I heard you talking to Alena,” I say.
“Yes.” She tosses on the narrow couch.
The Wild Heart Rose of Alaska By Leila Allison
Only the dead know how to live;
Only the poor know what to give
Only lovers pray for rain;
Only dreamers strive for pain.
Jean More committed suicide on 21 May 1977. She exited life via a dozen Quaaludes and a pint of hobo wine. Jean was thirty-seven; her final action made an orphan of her seventeen-year-old son, Holliday.
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Memphis by Frederick K Foote
Bullet Brown sittin at the bar sparked the fire when he tells Tall Tan, “Don’t start no shit and there won’t be no shit.”
Tall Tan, the Collector Man, poured some gas on the spark. “Too late for that. The shit started when you opened your goddamn lying mouth.”
Bullet smiled his gap-toothed smile. “Well, fuck, man. If we gonna do it let’s get to it.”
He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands by Bonnie Veaner
Kimberly Campbell invited me to her house for lunch. We had absolutely nothing in common, but we lived on the same street. Proximity is everything when you’re five years old.
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Compromising Phone Calls by Robert McGee
I try hard not to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but some of the things Germans do are just wrong. Over the years I’ve learned to tolerate all manner of behaviors that made my younger self uncomfortable: people shaking hands in non-professional contexts, people not smiling when they say hello, people not knowing how to wait in lines, et cetera. I’ve even adopted a few behaviors that would strike many Americans as odd: I bag my own groceries, I don’t tip unless the person actually deserves it, and I can listen to political opponents without wanting them dead.
Broads by Sarah Feary
“Does Frida have a good nose?”
Harold Zelenko lit his ninth cigarette of the day, and took a gulp of coffee. “Old ball and chain has the best nose in perdition,” he said. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. The Florida sun hadn’t yet reached its zenith, but there was no roof over the fenced motel patio, and it was a barbecue pit.
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