The old man kicked us out after the fight.

I left the kitchen door unlocked by mistake, and I suppose that’s how the raccoon came in.

The Class of 1953 Tachikawa Air Base Bride School girls were fertile, well-fed and rested.

"Me, all scatter-shotted words I tried out in the air ..."

The moment the cowboy bursts into the saloon, doors swinging wide, conversations splitting into silence, it’s already over.

But the shortstop is still bothered.

So obviously I couldn’t do it. She would have known it was real.

Beautiful, the flat-forever fields of Wisconsin as I barrel on through flurries, gobbling cheese curds, until, through the fluff, the end appears.

I wanted my nudity recognized and for people to consider or even remark upon the wound between my thighs and I was bursting to stand on my desk and shout: “Somebody get me an ice cream already!”

Our Man, as we now call him.

It’s really Freudian, that. Turning a doctor into a parent for a few minutes. That’s why Maeve likes him.

I Googled things that bond people. Google said trauma.

Ken pounded out three novelty songs on his busted up acoustic guitar, looking like a knock-off Daniel Johnston.

‘Le Trou Normand,’ I said to the Garçon, winking knowingly at him.

“And no one knows in what guise the end of the familiar will arrive.”- Joy Williams, “Cats and Dogs” 
 

Dale-Anne has heard a noise in her backyard, loud enough to pull her up from sleep.

Within 1-3 weeks, the body will begin to actively decay. This is when the organs, muscles, and skin will liquify. The hair, bones, and cartilage will remain.

Someone there used the blackest-known shade of black to make a circle.

Gunderson could hear the vehicle’s noisy carping from eight blocks away, like a herd of wild trashcans rolling down the street.

Oh, Anya!

The show literally fuckin has to go on.

I walked up to the window for immigration services at the Embassy. A Mastiff sat behind the pixel glass, writing furiously. He didn’t look up when I said hi, so I knocked on the glass, twice, with my fingertips.

Nobody liked accidents. Her bumper had merged with her backseat. Her windshield had shattered. The glass absorbed as much sunlight as it reflected, a pile like salt left after a backwards glance.

Your fingers began peeling the fruit, tossing orange scraps among the dirty straw. In the right light, they could have passed for blood.

Adhi awoke on his third birthday, struck by the sudden knowledge that he had previously been a 48 year-old man by the name of Samuel Razia.

My son is fifteen when he asks the first question I am unable to answer.