My most enduring memory of Roma is of an occurrence on a cold November afternoon in the little green park which sits just above and overlooks the Coliseum. A lone woman
A complex woman went out for a walk one fine summer day. Trouble found her whether she looked for it or not, which she admittedly, intentionally sought out at times. On this fine day
Full of longing, he was waiting to see her. The mysterious admirer had written to him a very short note “Wait for me at the library entrance. Let’s meet in a few minutes.” His tired eyes were watching
Flounder by Andrew M. Carless I threw my tackle box in the bed of my truck, chunks of rust bounced off the tire. Billy pretended not to see it. He struggled with the jumbled words in his head. He wasn’t the type to come out and ask, so he bit his lower lip and concentrated. […]
Each spring, the urge to plant something—a flower or vegetable or anything that would blossom and produce—pulled at her. It must have been a legacy from her grandmother who had, long ago, kept a garden of small and neat proportions.