Leaning back in my swivel chair, wondering if firing Bill Morrison would affect the fate of World Civilization, I stared at the volumes of French history on the bookshelves and wished somebody else was in charge of oiling the guillotine. (First published in Flashquake, Vol. 4, No. 4, Summer, 2005. This link takes you there; when you're finished, please use your back button to return here.)
I'm standing in the middle of Quincy Market in the rain, under a transparent plastic roof, looking at pictures made from old glass negatives. "Archival Process," the sign says. "As Used at the Smithsonian Institution."
Lori Jacobson, glowing in a pink flowered sun dress, strode confidently into the gallery, then stopped while her eyes recovered from the outside glare. (First published in LoveWords, June, 2002.)
In the boardroom, faces were long, tempers short, and hope nowhere in sight. (Note: Includes nasty words; first published in Wild Violet, September. 2003. This link takes you there; when you're finished, please use your back button to return here.)
". . . and they lived happily ever after." That, my dears, is a crock if I ever heard one. (First published in The Hiss Quarterly, Vo. 11, No. 3. This link takes you to the story; just close the page to return here.)
Women! I've had my fill. Can't live without 'em, can't live with 'em. (First published in Laughter Loaf, Vol. 9; No. 1. This link takes you to the story; just close the page to return here.)
He leaned casually against the gray stone wall next to a shop in the rue Petit Champlain, lower town, Québec. It was early evening, the sky a darkening blue. (First published in LoveWords, December, 2000, and again in The Painted Door, December, 2007. This link takes you to the story; just close the page to return here.)
This dude has been hanging around. First he just goes hello in the hall. Couple days later, he stops me. "Girls like you are scarce as diamonds," he says. (First published in The Sidewalk's End, July 2004; republished in The Painted Door, Winter-Spring 2008. This link takes you there; when you're finished, please use your back button to return here.)
