For my first four years, I never heard a lie. From the day I was born, Mom and Grams swaddled me in a fuzzy blanket, then wrapped my life in cold, hard truth. “Lies can be warm,” Grams said, deep in her corduroy rocking chair. “You’ll want to nestle into them. Some lies are meant…
A man stood on the street corner, preaching about the end of the world. Most people ignored him. Some because they couldn’t hear him, others because they’d heard it all before. To me, it sounded more like wishful thinking than anything else. I was in too much of a hurry to listen. I needed to…
I keep my parents in the bottom drawer of the commode, next to the pump. Every Sunday, just after I finish preparing the pizza, I take them out and bring them into the living room. Fully inflated, sitting at the table, they look endearing. Before we start eating, I load the last updated copy of…
The blonde sniffs. “You solve parachronic mysteries?” She’s on screen. It’s not the old days, when a dame would sweep into a gumshoe’s office, settle her gams on a wobbly chair opposite the Steelmaster desk, and spool out her story. Nowadays, we videoconference. Still, I get a sense of people. This bird has a voice…
