Fiction
Cicada Summer
John was pleased that the woman sat next to him on the commuter train, even though it was the only open seat. She could have stood in the vestibule, he thought. The next day there was a vacant seat. She wasn’t forced to sit next to him, but she did. John trembled, his pulse quickened,…
Read MoreThe Day I Burned a Piano
I stand in the empty living room, staring at the piano. The gathering cold of autumn seeps into the unheated farmhouse, the temperature penetrating and raw. After my parents died, first my mother, then my father, I have sold both their suburban home and now this weekend getaway. I had asked Phil, the caretaker who…
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