Stories

The keys were still sharp enough to scratch, the way new keys are before they've been worn to silk by a pocket. I stood in the open doorway with the cardboard t...

The price tag said twelve euros. She turned the rooster over and the paint on his tail was already lifting at one corner, a thin crescent of glaze curling away ...

Four steps to the bathroom for nineteen years, and the new wall arrived at two. A palm flat against plaster in the dark, in an apartment that had not learned me yet.

The list was in purple marker, her sister's handwriting that always looked like it was sliding downhill. Grilled corn. Dill pickles, the good kind in the glass ...

The curl of papers had fanned across his knee - three of them, cream gone yellow, each one a different car. He smoothed the top one flat with his thumb the way ...

He uncapped a blue pen and laid it along the folder's top edge, parallel to nothing in particular. The room filled from the back first, students dropping into s...

The mug sat wedged in the cupholder, lid cracked along the rim where he'd dropped it in the parking garage that Tuesday. He kept meaning to run it through the d...