fiction

Madeleine was Kathryn's mother's age, mid-fifties.

At sunrise I checked out of the Hotel Ajanta in New Delhi and met my new friend Sudesh in the lobby.

On the twenty-eighth day of June, 1960, which is the planned day of my deliverance, I awake at exactly six a.m. to find myself, on the first day of my eighteenth year, listening to the ringing of the bells from the Catholic church which I now attend only reluctantly on Sundays.

After hockey practice, one afternoon, it unrolls for you like the scroll of meat in a tin of tuna, or the rings of a tree from around the date of its beginning in a dot of sap.

For the moment, Josef had ghosts on his mind.

The old woman across the street was watching Dr. Levy as he cleared the driveway.

In this piece, Molbach who is, apparently, the sole hand behind this irregular newsletter) summarizes the controversy associated with the decision by the Casette Swan Script Collective to feature a donation box in their 1269 Commercial Drive.

Sylvie stands at the window, wrapped in a blanket, the dawn in the distance, brightening the dusting of snow that has fallen overnight in the courtyard below.

In Spring when the ice breaks up on the Moscow River and the snow melts, they say the peasant who has consumption knows there is nothing to be done about it.

At First,. May said to James on the night of his arrival,