Sr. F.R. Montes came home at nine o’clock every night. He lived in a building on Armendáriz Street, in a spacious apartment with large windows and an infinite view of the ocean. Usually, after passing through...
Tara was fat. Her husband made it clear that it didn’t do his image any good to have her waddling around, jiggling rolls of flesh. “I don’t waddle,” she said, hurt. “You do,” said Abhay and...
Voulez-vous le récit de ces folles amours? (Offenbach, Les Contes de Hoffmann) The frenetic applause barely moves her. The endless “Bravos!” from an audience universally on its feet in front of the stage — faces...
It was all to be done in thirds. I was to get 1/3 for doing the typing, and she was to get 1/3 for doing the editing, and he was to get 1/3 for writing the...
I watched him as he walked, scrutinizing his gait. He had a carefree, insouciant, irresponsible swagger. He didn’t give a damn how long the thing was howling for: minutes, hours, a day or even days. I...
She sat on a chair her hair cut short revealing her narrow neck. I wanted to cry and I wasn’t quite sure why exactly, that’s not true, I knew why. She gave me that intrusive thought that...
She had big breasts, slim legs and blue eyes. That’s how I like to remember her. I don’t know why I fell madly in love with her, but I did, and for a start, I mean...
Understand Blue Falls, how it got its name, how in dry years, in autumn, water slips over a flat edge, sheer and perfect, a wide liquid sheet reflecting a clear day—blue as an unraveling bolt of...
He tore open the door, swearing, the dog pressed to his lap. He walked up and down and eventually calmed himself. He propped the dog in its place beside the desk. He poured out some water...
When I was lobbing cobble stones at policemen on that September 11th, I would never have dreamed that someday I would become a policeman myself. It was September 11, 1973. I don’t know how I had...
I woke up shaking, alone in my room. I was clammy cold with sweat; under me the sheet and the mattress were soaked. The sheet was gray and twisted like a rope. I breathed like I...
Going to the shore on the first morning of the vacation, the young English boy stopped at a turning of the path and looked down at a wild and rocky bay, and then over the crowded...
The light has turned green and my son shows no sign that he wants to cross the street. He won’t budge from the traffic island, his eyes squinting against the lashing sun, his hands on his...
My grandma didn’t like the rain, and when the sky darkened before the first few drops started to fall, she would take bottles to the backyard and half bury them in the earth, the bottlenecks facing...
He reaches behind him, over the seat, so the passengers next to me in the back of the car can put their fares into his outstretched hand. He carelessly chucks the money down beside him, with...
We have all these favorite shows coming on every evening. They say it will be exciting and it always is. They give us hints of what is to come and then it comes and it is...
It began in a hailstorm in 1975 when Benito Picone trotted across Market Street with his briefcase gripped overhead, shielding him both from the falling sky and, inadvertently, the oncoming Buick. His legs buckled on the...
In periods of boredom, time turns its back on existence and we stand outside ourselves. (CIORAN, Entretiens) It was a forced entry of light. The waves of hostile winter sun spilled over the linoleum. And...
The years have taken their toll: I wake up at night more often, and then, bereft of sleep, I go to the bathroom, perch on the bathtub, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I...
“Business savvy just doesn’t run in the blood,” my mum often says – in which there lies a veiled criticism of me, and a hint of regret. But no such regret existed until after I turned...
While he was waiting for his gas tank to be filled at one of the many stations found at the beginning of the Cassia road, on the way out of Florence, attorney Adami kept looking at...
Savitsky, the commander of the Sixth Division, rose when he saw me, and I was taken aback by the beauty of his gigantic body. He rose — his breeches purple, his crimson cap cocked to the...
I (From Pyotr Ivanitch To Ivan Petrovitch) Dear Sir and Most Precious Friend, Ivan Petrovitch, For the last two days I have been, I may say, in pursuit of you, my friend, having to talk over...
Sitting on each side of the double bed, Jana Rietter and I watch over the wounded man. The yellow light from the kerosene lamp gives the room a ghostly atmosphere. Despite the large open windows, the...
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