It happened. She crossed the line. Norah was now one of those women. She wore the fact like a secret scarlet A on her chest. She contemplated this idea like she was floating above it and it was written on a piece of paper below her. “I slept with a married man,” the paper said. […]Read more "That Kind of Woman"
Norah clings to her mother’s neck with one arm, the other holds on to the arm holding up her little frame. Though she’s bouncing about as her mom walks briskly, this place, on her mom’s hip, her face close to her mother’s cheek, this is the most comfortable place she can ever be. She sees […]Read more "Little Girl"
Norah sat at her computer looking at hundreds of photos of young Indian men dancing and throwing color. She heard Ethan laugh from the other room and laughed herself. He was watching Seinfeld for the first time. He had a goofy laugh that contradicted his chronic pessimism. Norah invited him to join her for lunch […]Read more "Peanut Butter and Seinfeld"
He was there again. At the same coffee shop. Last time Norah sat right across from him, at the big communal table. She used the crowd and lack of seating as her camouflage. This time he was alone, empty booths all around him. If she sat close to him again, it would be obvious. She […]Read more "The Café Guy"