Estlin rolls over and puts his arm around Isabelle. He squeezes her close to his body. He kisses her head, as she moves to get out of his embrace. “Stop,” she mumbles. “I’m trying to sleep.” Estlin sighs and rolls out of bed. It is noon already and he can hear the noise and music …
The toddler hangs straight-legged from his arm cradle while he bangs with the side of his fist on the plate glass of the storm door that he had to re-install because her husband knew nothing more on how to do anything but sit on his ass and have somebody else do it. When she comes …
From the sidewalk, T.S. Bar gave a vibrant aura. Open casement windows let out the speaker cringes of jukebox anthems, while bar chatter and laughter and shrieks of greetings mingled with the clink and crash of empty bottles into trash cans. The chalk board sign by the door read in colorful, loopy letters; ‘Jack & …
She loved him. I like to think that’s why she left me. They had known each other before me. In a time in their lives when she was ready and he was not. I came along later. After what moments of fumbling lust and displaced emotions had expired, she escaped me and waited for him. …
GOODBYE DICK His birthday gift to her, a set of full tang stainless steel kitchen knives, lay strewn about on the counter. He lay on the floor, his penis in her left hand. A peculiar thing, she thought. It can grow and squirm like such an altogether separate entity of the body. Its ability to …
I kept a pet-name for Kendall Falling in my mind; The Wide-Eyed Girl. Eyes that glistened and bounced around like bold, brown pinballs. Those eyes searched over the cityscape and all therein; the passing motor cars and trucks, the glass and mortar towers, the walks and don’t walks, the hosed-over early morning sidewalks, the bodies …
Two co-workers sit at a bar top and stare up toward flat screen sports highlights. An act that is repeated in millions of dim-lighted, slick-topped bars where patrons play dj and the bartenders’ feet scurry from till to tap to bottle neck. All-the-while conversations are had for no reason and every reason, smiles are wrung …
Where rests the extinct Moorestown Locomotive Company - a weeded-over and corrupt brick campus of late 19th century design, inactive since its last use as a rubber stamp factory in the early 1960’s - locals say that if you go to Morgan’s Hill just over-looking the old grounds and now defunct railway leading from the …
