Short Stories & Essays
Your baby is the size of…
A short story forthcoming from the Southern Review
At five weeks, we suspect that something might be wrong. “Does the baby look all right?” the patient asks. Under the harsh examination lights, her face is smooth as polyethylene.
History of the Handshake
A lyric essay forthcoming from Fourth Genre
Already there had been too much grief to bear: patients dying alone in hospital rooms because family members weren’t allowed inside; refrigerator morgues parked on silent city streets. In such days as these, what right did we have to mourn a dog?
What are the renters doing now?
A flash essay published in the North American Review
Have they remembered to turn off the stove? Are they scrubbing our pans with the softest brush? Are they hanging their coats on our hooks, boiling their water in our pots, tossing their salad with our wooden spoons?