First published in Boston Literary Magazine (2010) - read editor interview
Susan stabbed a piece of apple harder than needed. The leftover Waldorf salad offered little solace. She wanted a marriage, a family. He remained indifferent. Two sparrows argued outside her window. One yammered, “Leave,” the other, “Stay.” Her gaze seesawed from the interlopers to her luggage. The fork, suspended, waited.
Tasty indirection, Jim. Sometimes you can say more by saying nothing at all. The story is in the invisible interiors of us all.
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