The Warmth of White China by Karen Arnold
You switch on lights and shrug off your coat in one heavy, rolling wave of muscle memory. Today will be busy.
Collections by Guy Biederman
Ray holds the Gondola watercolor painting against the wall next to Watermelon Girl, a pastel, and the charcoal of Fisherman in a Dory, who has hooked a whale but doesn’t yet know it.
A Minor Inconvenience by Ian Walker-Sperber
I woke up in the hollow of a spoon, my long blond hair floating atop the soup. I was ensconced in a hot minestrone.
Least Said by A.J. O’Toole
“I’ve noticed you’re a noticer,” my colleague said. That’s how it started. I’d complained to him about a house on a nearby street that I passed on my walk into work, where a car was slowly dissolving on the drive.
Sometimes it’s the weight of a watermelon by Abigail Williams
Occasionally even the scent of chip shop vinegar is enough to take Jenny back to her old redbrick road, the chafing cold of the privy, the knife-tear sensation so unexpectedly agricultural, anatomical, like she is a tree with a splitting limb.