Conversation

She had nine faces already, and each time she began to talk a new one was added. "How does she manage to do that?" he wondered, listening to her voice. It enveloped him like a

My boyfriend and I have sex and when we're finished he holds me close and whispers into my ear, I just date-raped you. What do you do now?

In the grocery store he throws an avocado at my head

I bought a storefront in town, a Walgreen's that kicked the bucket some months back. The townspeople speculated on what I'd turn it into. One guy told me that the neighborhood needed a stamp shop,

In a walk-in closet, my father's ties were exactly six centimeters apart on wooden dowels. I gently touched the gaps between his ties and ran my fingers through the ties. Before anyone else, he

Leni Zumas' wonderful book Farewell Navigator is full of the kinds of stories I love and the kind of writing I envy. Every word is chosen carefully. Every sentence fits with the previous and the

We'd just eaten a steak dinner. I'd handled the salad and the baked potatoes, my husband had grilled the steaks. Bottle of wine on the table, a few drinks for him before dinner. My husband, veteran

Sumatra, Indonesia, 1963

The hibiscus hedge is the boundary line the girl is not supposed to cross. Sometimes, for something to do, she walks to the end of the sidewalk and listens through the

Those days I believed in Body over Mind. I believed Mind followed Body because I knew matter could think. I was a cook in this little hotel/restaurant in Missoula, Montana. The manager put me up in

They think I don't hear their whispers, but I do. Even with a bathroom between our bedrooms, all I have to do is put my ear to the wall and I can pick up every word.

At twelve, I know a lot. I

Cathy Day grew up in Peru, Indiana, where the Great Porter Circus lodged from 1884 to 1939. Her first book, The Circus in Winter, illuminates the rise of the circus, its collapse, and the legends

I met her on the corner of a street and an avenue. "We didn't fix anything," she told me. She was no-nonsense, a fast-walker, a liberal. She agreed to show me around.

I tried to ask what it was

A man had many things hanging off of his body. There were two arms, two legs, a hose. Mostly though there were a number of barbed hooks, which hung from chains stemming from his torso. They picked

It reminds me of the swimming pool game when I was a child, eyes closed, calling, and the others answering as I struggled, not knowing how to swim blind. I reached for their voices, their bodies

My mother is in every room of her house. The kitchen keeps her fingerprints in the flour jar, her lipstick stains on the wine glasses. She left a note on the refrigerator that says: Gone grocery

I discovered Yannick Murphy through her Bookworm interview and bought a copy of Here They Come (McSweeney's Books, 2006) soon after. I've read it twice already and know that this is a book I'll

Sex and Kindness

Rachel left Mac and walked down the dirt road next to the river. She was leaving him for good. A truck drove up. A man leaned out. She didn't look at first. When she did, she

Transportation

Come dusk the lie will prevail, and even those who know better will venture out in the belief that the evening is cool. It isn't. Welcome to ramshackle, angular Belize City. The

"I don't really know how to put it across," said the private detective.

Birds of spring flew across the bright sky behind the window of a dark office. The 50-years old woman sat down and looked

Miguel speaks Spanish and I speak Spanish and Miguel has no idea I do. He lays block while I bring block and still he has no idea. Calling me a perro. He laughs and jokes with the other migrant

Temporary People is subtitled "A Fable." What does that mean to you? And how do you think the fable adapts to long-form fiction? And one that's acutely aware of world history and politics at

ADLERIAN THEORY

A little girl in a red princess-style coat with a checkered lining, aged three. She's on tiptoe on the back seat of the Chevy, a red and white finned '57. That's what I remember

Here is the house. Its siding contains asbestos. Its paint contains lead. This is what we were told every time we got caught sneaking out the window in the middle of the night. As if disease and

"Sometimes things aren't supposed to change," Billy would say, lying in bed while rubbing my back, when we got to talking about the town, about how unfortunate it all was, how opportunity had gone

We were just out of Williams driving to Flagstaff in the dead of winter in the dead of night when one of us, the driver, shouted the rest of us awake and said he just saw one honker of an elk in

There was no place to get it on.

There are bulky strange men in the kitchen, they are laying new black and white tile. It is daylight out, so that limits the possibilities. The proximity of

The unruly ferns creeping over the porch of the grand old house in Selma, Alabama, didn't fool Allie. Nor the lacy vines hugging the walls and roof. Old money. Unlike the transience of bungalow