Sometimes she was as wild as the vines that grow madunderfoot. “Because I'm still in love with you I want to see you dance again. Because I'm still in love with you on this harvest moon,” she sang out loud.  Long strands of copper hair cascaded in waves around her. She swayed her body back and forth, moving to the music playing in her thoughts. “Hop in babe.” He lifted her up into the shopping cart. Her low heeled combat...

When he cooked, the entire kitchen was galvanized by the strength he put into it; the dishes, pans, knives, everything bore the brunt of his strength, and everything was challenged, forced to cook, to boil. He was a beast of a man, unrefined. His fingers thick and dented from the way he conquered the vegetables with his sharp knife. His arm marked by red streaks from boiling water that raised up like hot lava as he tossed...

Her hair was the color of golden wheat, like her mother’s. She was beautiful but not in a coveted manner, her eyes were not the color of the sea. Nor was she a graceful swan with porcelain skin. She was beautiful in the way the wind dances through hair, of black coffee in the morning, in the way the ocean kisses the shore. She was beautiful because she refused to taste the sadness of her fate. The little girl grew up play...

I’m not fascinated by people who smile all the time. What I find interesting is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when they bite their lip, the way they look down when the conversation has stopped, the way their faces say they want to say something but can’t. I watch when they are alone and smoking a cigarette. I smile at the way they carry on a phone conversation as if no one can hear them, the way they...

An Anniversary to Remember The harvest had given way to the last month of winter in San Francisco. A young couple walked along the old pier, a pier which is simply called the Muni pier by most locals. The fisherman cast out by the rocks which contour the shoreline area. The seagulls, wheeling and crying calling out to one another as they dove, wings skimming the surface above the foam in search of food. The chill of winte...

The girl was eighteen, when a new friend invited her to hang out with her after school. It was supposed to be just another day, the kind of day where you open your eyes, hug your pillow wishing you could stay in bed and sleep, but know that it isn’t possible. The routine of putting on the same uniform and shoes, brushing your teeth, your hair and eating a bowl of cereal is predictable, meant not to be altered. But in the...