A Creative Space + Literary Magazine
My father’s cigar-smoking, or rather its imminent threat, had caused our banishment to the porch. After supper, Dad had taken a cigar from his shirt pocket with the practiced deliberation of an actor. Mom, recognizing the cue as hers, stood and began clearing the dishes. “Marcel,” she said, “you’re not going to smoke that…
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Right now I’m sitting alone in my favorite bistro. A cocktail or two, some delicious comfort food, and possibilities, all lie in waiting. Nights like this call for red lipstick. Nights where, no one you already know can make up for the crappy day you’ve had. The ones where existential crises dictate the order of…
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“I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up all over my wedding dress!” I said. “Breathe,” my friend, Monica, replied. I breathed. I didn’t throw up. It was past the time of morning sickness so something else was wrong. The woman in the mirror in front of me reapplied the…
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