“So… we’re really doing this?” Her furtive smile. Soft crease across her brow. Like dice, a dull bell rattles above the door. Two students saunter in, bringing the April air with them. Wet and warm. The scent of citrus and fir. Like a drink. I’d like a drink. Something stronger than coffee. They’re holding hands. In love, most likely. Maybe not. Lena sips, cupping the mug with both palms. She’s trying to look calm like th...

Owen heard it—the staccato trills of a stormy petrel, less a song than a sort of snarl. “There you are...” he sniffed and smiled, “You’re mine.” The camera clicked just before the bird dove out of sight, vanishing behind some rocks. He lowered his lens, and his face sank. The picture, he knew, would come out perfect. With a wall full of framed cover shots back home, the mud of seven continents stuck to his boots, and a ki...

Last thing I heard was the train’s whistle, shrill. The last thing I smelled was the smoke. Flushed and furrowed. She wore that dress again. Spun silk, hiding her. More hidden than when we met. More to hide. She writhes.  Rise and fall. Chest supple, burning. I’ve held her like a flower in my hand, and bled. To pluck her once, and watch her wilt. It was meant to make an end— And now? The stains I left. And scars. All hidd...

“How much further?” “Not far,” Eliot grinned, hoisting the pack on his shoulder, “you’re gonna love this. I swear.” I wiped my brow, grabbing a branch as I leapt over another slick dip in the trail. The sun was warm, and the snow was long gone.  But the ground this time of year was still glazed in ice, all pearly and hard as enamel. “You sure you know where you’re going?” He stopped, squinting around the dense evergreens,...

Chapter 8 Everyone was hurrying home before the storm hit. The train, always busy this time of day, was bursting at the seams now with people all bundled up in wool or vinyl, either swiping along the screens of their phones, or else gazing blankly into the abyssal blackness of the tunnel. I tried hard to avoid any eye contact. In a sea of commuters in grey wool and starched white cotton, my paint-splattered jeans, beat-up...

Chapter 6 I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it. “Tabarnak,” Marie read my mind, “You don’t think he followed you, Penny?” I shook my head, though admittedly it was one of the first dreadful thoughts to flash through my mind. Once reason caught up, however, it occurred to me that I might’ve just stumbled unwitting into the lion’s den; that this was place where he went to mass. Is that why he wants the painting? I won...

Chapter 4 Once when I first got there. Three times when I pricked my finger. Another two at Marie. Silently, I summed my curses from the previous evening. Is that all? It was hard to remember. It was such a strange and dizzying night, and the smell of incense from the censer always made my head feel a little hazy. Well, for those at least, I’m sorry. As penance, I promised to give Marie’s bathroom a long overdue scrubbing...

Chapter 3   “Huh,” Peter turned back to me, his eyebrows arched. I remained frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes from the wall. “Huh,” he repeated, “Why uh, why didn’t you tell me you had some stuff in the show, Pens?” His tone was puzzled and penitent. Before reading the name, I could tell he’d just missed making some scathing remark at my expense. “I didn’t know,” I muttered, shaking my head. Gradually, I put the pie...

Part 1 - Roses Are Red Yes. A sunny balcony would be nice, I thought, circling another listing in crimson ink. Or maybe a roof garden. I could plant rosemary, and violets. I could paint. I bit the top of my pen and skimmed down the column to another number that didn’t threaten to ruin me. ‘Sur la rue Villeray. 3 1/2 chauffé. 1 chambre, style ouvert. Plancher bois franc. Disponible immédiatement. 500 $’ It was more than a...