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The Raven and the Swan by T. J. Rivard
My wife sleeps, and I wear the shirt she wore to paint in. A thin blue
line crosses just under the left pocket. She borrowed this shirt, and I
smell her skin in the weave... The Dead Man Walking by Jennifer Loring
For miles and miles, oceans of wheat swayed across the plain in golden swells. In that boundless expanse perhaps only one or two farms might stand out against the pale blue sky; a silo, a house and its accompanying barn, a herd of cattle grazing languidly in the afternoon sun. Most days here passed just like this... Not a Trace by Barbara Jacksha
I waited one day, one day to the hour, before following your trail. I
forced myself out into the cold, down the steps to the front walk, mindful
of the ice hidden beneath deep snow. Before you left, you promised to
scatter pellets of ice melt so that no one would slip and fall... Arrival by Bill Sander
Fresh moonlight spilled down the wooded slope. In places it seemed he could scoop it up, make a moonball, suck it. In that wet light, in all that spiced stillness, only he moved. A mat of moist thatch propelled him, now into a meadow, where white grasses lapped against the dark forest... The Love Song of Langley Moran by Wayne Scheer
"I'd be happy if I was just pissing away my life," Langley Moran told his
wife as they prepared for bed. "Instead, it's passing in dribbles and squirts.
I'm like an old man with a prostate problem..." Sunday Morning by Dianne Thomas
She didn't like spending the night at his place. The single bed that
doubled as his sofa wasn't big enough for two people who had passed the
stage of sleeping in each other's arms. She hadn't wanted to stay over, but
his car had blocked hers into the apartment building's tiny parking lot... Beautiful, Like Gasoline in a Mud Puddle by Cathie Byers Hamilton
Daddy walloped Crystal this morning. She'd spilled the last
of the milk all over the floor, and there was nothing for
him to put on his cereal. He smacked her upside the head
and yelled, "Shit, Crystal, watch what you're doing! That
damn milk is expensive!" Mama wasn’t home, so the milk
never did get mopped up... This Bird Has Flown by Michael Hulme
The beer garden congregation strengthens as twilight draws near. Two mating
flies drown in my glass. Silence, like pulling teeth...
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