We heard him coming before we saw him, a single cowbell disturbing the air of our hushed and private morning. Then the clop of ox hooves on macadam, the creak of wagon wheels, and he was among us. We watched him through parted curtains, watched each other watching him from across the street and down the block. He was a stranger, obviously. Short, his body square as a fencepost, dark hair hanging greasy down over his eyes. He fed the ox some hay and began unloading his cart right there on the street: tools, stacks of lumber, rusted-looking brackets and ..read more

No one warned Ana what she might find digging in the garden. Not boring earthworms or ants or pill bugs. Insects were of no interest to her. It was the other treasures. The ones that once had life above ground. The first bone she found snapped as she dug it out. So small and fragile. What had it been? Maybe Granny’s dog killed something and buried it. Though the stupid mutt couldn’t catch his tail most of the time. Ana unearthed a dozen yellowed bones, but no matter which way she put them together, it didn’t form anything. She needed ..read more

Lucy has heard there is a woman up in Boston in charge of cataloging the stars. This woman lists them and then puts them into categories. She has never married, and the astronomers, all of them men, listen to her.  Here in New Jersey, Lucy can hardly see the stars, but she would split them any which way if someone actually stopped to listen. Alphabetical, numerical, or by color like how her mother puts the handkerchiefs in her father’s dresser drawer. He’s not fancy—he works at the brewery in Orange—his nose just always runs. Hardly anybody listens to Lucy. “Why ..read more

It’s hard to tell in this light, but Angie’s got a scar, about the width of a fingernail. The scar is below her bottom lip: one short horizontal white line, raised, with two pale “U”-shaped impressions underscoring it, as if a pair of micro-shoes dangling from a clothesline. Angie and I, we’re lying together in her bed.  I ask her about the scar. She removes her hand from mine and runs her index finger under her bottom lip. It’s like she forgot it’s there. I’m surprised you noticed it, she says. It’s kinda dark in here. No, I say. I ..read more

Tamer huddles at the door, farthest from the little red kerosene heater, but there’s been no fuel for days. The bodies of four generations of his closest fifty relatives, and almost fifty of another family’s four generations in the unit below, keep the little cinder block apartment just warm enough in the winter of this latest discontent. Seventy-five years of constant pressure and intermittent war, but this time…. None of their four generations have witnessed this degree of depravity and desperation, nor fought so hard against the despair that chased after.  His beloved wife Sajida sits ..read more

Fernando opted for Marty’s death as his fourth wish.  The coven that had advertised a “five wishes” special for dogs initially refused to perform the spell on my cat. The women fretted that cats are not as selfless as dogs, and warned there could be “dire consequences.” I begged them. It was the tenth anniversary of Fernando coming into my life, and I wanted to give him a present that reflected the joy he had brought to me. They relented, and I returned home with Fernando to wait and see how he would use his gift. Fernando’s first wish had ..read more

Their mother had been a literature professor before all this happened. She wrote probing op-ed pieces for the local newspaper, and her short stories were frequently published in literary magazines. She was proud to have placed one of her stories in the prestigious Paris Review, and after that she’d set her sights on The New Yorker. Her demeanor had changed slowly from bold, serious, and kind to a simplistic sweetness and affability. She seemed to be joking all the time. In the past, her sense of humor had been astute and somewhat droll; now it was childlike. Her hair, which ..read more

Sarah belted out the song along with the radio, almost missing the exit ramp for Main Street.  Just two hours and ten minutes, door to door. Not bad for Monday morning rush hour. It didn’t really matter. Aunt Evelyn wasn’t expecting her.  Sarah had barely slept all weekend, but she was too excited to be exhausted. Trace had been all she’d hoped and more. Since coming to the firm, she’d had a crush on her boss—with his deep-set blue eyes and hint of gray at the temples. Finally, last Wednesday, he had lingered at her desk on his way out ..read more

I am not saying I can remember the sound of my mother’s heartbeat before she pushed me out, gasping in the transition from breathing blood to breathing air. I’m saying I understand, more than most kids might, why babies can’t sleep when they are away from that sound, its rhythm and comfort. I understand because that’s what it was like when we ran away from our cabin on Crowes Pasture Beach, where the waves crashed onto the sand. I didn’t sleep right until we hit the next sea. “Honey, we gotta move faster,” my mother said. “You want me to ..read more

Pam booked a table for one at a Michelin-starred restaurant, ordered herself a bouquet of long-stem fuchsia roses, and arranged for a two-tiered ice cream cake to be delivered to her at the end of the meal. It wasn’t every day that she turned forty.  She arrived at the restaurant at 7:00 p.m. on the dot, her hair freshly permed and colored. A server, dressed in a maroon cheongsam, greeted her by name and wished her happiness and good health. “This way, please, madam,” she said, her head bowed.  Pam felt a bit unsteady on her feet as she was ..read more