Stories

Twelve square feet of clover behind an orange stake marked WILD, a wasp nest the size of a playing card, and Roy at the chain link, quietly revising something.

The map of the Douro had been folded in a drawer for years, from the trip she and Tomas never took. A story about finally planning the one that counts.

Norma left Saturday's square white in the rooster calendar and told Bev she wasn't driving to Millbrook, and the world did not end. It didn't even slow down.

The pot was lighter than she remembered. She turned it upside down and there was the dent, same dent, from the time her father dropped it on the back porch in 1...

Ray stood at the back of his truck and didn't look at the trowel, but Darnell kept touching it the way a kid touches a new watch. The supply house doors were pr...

Donal set it face-down on the placemat and then picked it back up. He pressed the button on the side and the screen lit blue and he flinched like it had bitten ...

Vera found the old birthday notebook rubber banded in a bread bag behind the soup, three names crossed out in pencil and her own circled twice in red.

The lamp store wanted him at 2:07 in the morning, and some part of him got up to see about it. He went down the list of apps the way he thinned a row of tomatoes.

A cobalt blouse four years in its plastic, a coral one from her mother's closet with the tag still on, and a jar of fig jam finally opened on ordinary toast.