Essential Smell by Peter Wortsman
Of late he had begun to smell like boiled potatoes.
My Celebrity Goat by Jane Ciabattari
I have changed his name, because he’s a real goat. He’s a celebrity, but I don’t think he’ll sue me. I doubt he’ll be reading this. Still.
In Heels by Hobie Anthony
She left her shoes on the corner every time she took me up to her room. The desk clerk had been paid off so that she could walk barefoot whenever she wanted.
Pamela Painter and Randall Brown
Peace My daughter built a wall across the basement with an overturned couch, cushions, blankets, a table on its side. A peace line, she called it. It had taken Missy an entire afternoon, but finally she allowed her brother and me to visit. Enchanted, Dell asked...