Mrs. Knapp

Mrs. Knapp had been a teacher prior to her retirement, whereupon she became simply old Mrs. Knapp (as she was referred to by all the kids in the neighborhood). Berenice's mother said Mrs. Knapp was older than our elementary school, older than the park on Falstaff, even older than some of the shade trees lining …

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Everything’s not copacetic

George Negritsoyski on Pexels.com New York Spring 1953 - two friends sitting at a corner table in a packed bar drinking and smoking talk about their future ROSIE - the girl JEAN - the guy TOM - Rosie's boyfriend THE BARTENDER A COUPLE AT ANOTHER TABLE and roll em... J: Come on Rosie, let's beat …

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What he didn’t say

Ron Lach on Pexels.com Something wasn't right. The twinge in her stomach told her so. Her eyes confirmed it was so. He was supposed to be there. But there was no sign of his form, his face. Had he changed his mind? Couldn't go through with it any more? No. Nervous energy traveled through her, …

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BIG LOVE

Photo by Clara The day he died, we started to live. We were lucky that way - being alive. Many don't make it. On his last day I was under the bed making myself as flat as possible; willing myself into the floorboards. The door was locked, but that gave me little reassurance. If he …

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Before Miss Manners there was Washington

I just finished reading, almost in one breath, The Rules of Civility by Amor Towles. Interesting to the book, after the formidable writing of course!, are photos (found at the beginning of each chapter) taken by Walker Evans (mostly known for his photos of the Great Depression). Between 1938 and 1941 Evans rode the New …

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Time

Time is a peculiar thing. It exists as a specific amount (24 hours, 10 minutes, 2 seconds) and yet, our perception of time rarely corresponds to this fixed data. Sitting bored, staring at the wall feels like hours. Waiting for results on a biopsy; an agonizing eternity. Time spent with a new love; a blurry …

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The Big Sleep

He is abandoned asleep on the sofa. His breathing is light and even. How peaceful he looks, childlike and vulnerable, cocooned in his private inner space, where the outside world cannot touch him. When I see him like that, I imagine how his mother must have looked at him whilst a baby cradled in her …

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A Slap in the Face

An indelible mark Just as the older freckled hand centered the smooth cheek of the younger woman, seconds after the satisfyingly clean sound of the slap and right before the redness began radiating across her cheek, another crisp smack resounded. Only this time it was delivered by the younger woman. So perfectly timed was the …

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A day at the beach with Margaret Drabble

Sea breezes, the squawk of gulls, the scent of coco and salty air; I am at the beach. Colorful mini shops on wheels sell cheerful brightly colored bikinis, towels and beaded jewellery. The sky is dotted with para-sailors and the water with windsurfers, paddle boats and bobbing heads. Mothers call out to their children to …

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The wicked

Despondency had an address. Ours. Our house was one of a series of identical houses on the fringes of this forest. The ever present dankness and semi shadow was meant to humble and educate. From an early age blind obedience and outright denial of any desire or ambition for 'things' outside the designated square meters …

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