Deadline

Fiction

Quark: Annie, my heart reaches out to you in a manner of speaking, but I have an evening of theater to see to and for those of us in the producing business, mention of the heart is strictly a rhetorical device. My dear, be so kind as to tell your husband that the clock is ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock.

excerpt: Dahlia’s Iris—Secret Autobiography and Fiction

Fiction

Elude seeing the world destroyed utterly. The olive green air ripples.

excerpt: Thumbs Up

Fiction

How Nicholas Black had come by his vocation was a story in itself which had as much to do with his being left-handed as with his having artistic talent.

A Visit

Fiction

The telephone rang while he was running the vacuum cleaner. He didn’t know this until later—so loud was the noise of the Electrolux and so concentrated was he on the task at hand: getting the cat’s fur off the carpet, the bits and twigs and leaves dragged from outside, the ash from cigarettes.

Untitled

Fiction

My voice is coming from inside this box. That’s why it strikes your ear askew. Brim full and empty, almost gone, its syllables never sound, but resound merely.

Fiction

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