Driving in the Dark

by Jo-Anne Rosen He knew it would be a mistake to let Bella drive. She was hard on cars and his was past its prime. “You don’t want to drive all day, Charles,” she said. “How far is it to Joshua Tree? You’ll need a break.” “I’ll be fine,” he said. “You need a holiday

Lucy Needs Work

by Sarah Sarai  i. Someone is tapping on the professional wood of Lucy’s professional workstation on the eighteenth floor of the professional law firm. She looks up to see a tall, skinny man, a legal-looking man, a lawyer, in fact. He wears a loose black suit, a suit not picked off an $80-or-less rack, yet


by Les Bohem “Someone like you should not be allowed to start any fires.” — David Bowie, “Win” My friend Peter Woolcott was incredibly good-looking. The great grandson of a duke, he had the classic features of a prince, with a combination of arrogance and vulnerability that was amazingly appealing. He did not carry himself

The Orchid

by Cullen McMahon What is the word that describes the feeling you have when, on returning home Mother’s Day morning with bagels and coffee and, on the passenger seat beside you, an orchid (the last available orchid, in fact, $89.50, “a beaut” said the sales girl), you park in the garage and, because the garage

At the Casino with Two Jacks

by Jo-Anne Rosen           Though we’d known about each other over twenty years, we didn’t meet until that afternoon in the hospital when Alice burst into the room and dropped into the chair opposite mine. On the bed between us lay my husband, Frank. His jaw hung open and his breath was raspy.           “Why

Rotarian on Vacation

by Niles Reddick for Jerry and Ruth Ann Jimmy lived and breathed Rotary in Augusta, Georgia. That’s how he’d met his wife, Virginia. She was a Miss Georgia contestant, and once a year they paraded the young ladies through the club, partly to increase ticket sales to the beauty pageant among the wealthiest men in

The White Dread of Wilshire

by Gina Yates As I rinse my paintbrushes in the bathroom sink, I make a forlorn James Dean face in the mirror and try to recall when 3-day stubble became my signature look. Seriously though, at what point did I become so mired in angst that I succumbed to this half-assed grunge aesthetic? I don’t

Everyone Here is Fine

by Cynthia Allen I’m suddenly a housewife like my mother, procuring groceries at different markets, cleaning dog hair off the kitchen floor, and promptly serving dinner weeknights at 6:00 pm. At first, I welcome the busyness, but as three weeks roll into four and six and eight, my patience wears thin. I’m doing what my