FICTION
“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
It all started with the curse of my tits. Women’s bodies are cursed. Everyone tries to look at them, everyone tries to ignore them.
“The woman was a catastrophe,” Carlos told me at the time. “But she was as honest as my face is ugly.”
She turns her back for me to fasten the rows of metal hooks. Why isn’t our small, tender freedom enough?
The most entertaining thing about Miguel is that when he was 13 he dislocated his shoulder playing basketball and can now pop it in and out of place. There is nothing particularly interesting about Miguel.
You’ve been dreading this day since the moment you found out you were pregnant—perhaps even before.
When I was on earth I was a pretty good kid. I only got drunk when I needed to get drunk.
and on and on and on and on they ran, the Merry Men, running from a hundred and one arrows bought with taxes stolen twice over…
I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…
He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.
I loved Rena as much as a patient could love their gynecologist. We had tea together in her office. I cried when she asked how I was doing, and she showed me pictures of her terriers.
Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.
A man with a fistful of showbags said, “That cow sounds like a person trying to sound like a cow.”
Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.
At the end of the meeting, the villagers agreed to contribute shillings and pounds to sponsor Elochi to a university in America.
I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.
Share some abandon.
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