Fiction

The Hard-Boiled Egg

Shot of a modern kitchen. In the middle of the kitchen, a young woman wearing a white apron, holding an egg in her hand. Then the fingers that are holding it, and the hand; then, the woman’s neatly arranged hair; then her forehead, her eyes, her head.

The President’s Mouth

“Scar tissue makes the best tongue,” said the president, whose own tongue had been lashed with small whips, beaten with mallets and rubbed with steel wool by an intern until it was long, purple and hard, and could not be put away at the end of a long day, but poked stiffly out of his mouth day and night.

MILO- A Conversation Between Christine Schutt and Diane Williams

Christine Schutt (CS): She was no taller than a small door. Her hair was entirely one color, no other shades. She was efficient in all the domestic arts, but all she could say in English at this point was: “Glad to meet you,” “Too bad about the weather,” and “No one does it better than a slam dunker”—whatever that meant. She knew no other words of English. All to the better, thought Milo.

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SEPT 2006

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