Smooth jazz filled my minimalist apartment as I removed my teal blazer and kicked off my red stilettos. Left with a formfitting white corporate dress and black nylons, I slid open my glass door to the balcony, oddly letting the wintry air in before turning back to relax on my crimson massage chair. Mr. Latsis was inside his penthouse across the street, oblivious to my awareness that he had been watching my boring life in...

Call me Zoe. That’s my name this week, this month, in this city. I tend to change it to fit my mood, my current path, much like I change my hair. You could call me a nomad. I’ve lived on the East Coast, in the upper Midwest, northern New England, the Southwest, even the deep South. Well, spent time would be a better description. “Lived” connotes more permanence, more rootedness, than my life has seen since I ran away from...

Wendy perched on the window seat as she looked out through the round bedroom window. Like most days since turning sixteen, she was grumpy, but today she was also annoyed, having just been grounded by her mother. “Grounded,” she muttered to herself. “I am of age; too old to be grounded. It is not my fault that I have these sexual urges. I am not a young child anymore.” The weather was also not helping Wendy’s mood. Raindro...

It had been a torturous past couple of days for Tim. He worked as a salesperson at the local branch of a national insurance company and he had been sent to a convention hosted by the parent company. It was all incredibly boring stuff and he felt like he was drowning in a sea of buzzwords. They tried to spice up the festivities by showing pre-recorded video messages by some of the celebrity spokespeople or hosting contests...

Finally, my dad nodded to the undertaker who started the conveyor. “Annie?” he had asked. I just couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't. Bloody typical, Sarah would’ve thought. “Brian?” Sarah’s father, again cervical cancer’s bitch, had also shaken his head; a stoic’s single tear staining his new cream shirt. My fingers locked with theirs. My face dissolved, a mascara mess. The white pine coffin, painted with rainbows and unicorns...

Nkhata Bay, Lake Malawi, May 1995 I sat in the hilltop gazebo overlooking the sleepy little bay. Time practically stood still here, and it was the perfect place for reflecting and putting pen to paper. I had everything I needed: a table, a stunning view, and shade from the relentless African sun. Out on the lake, I could see swarms of flies in the shape of giant waterspouts. These humming clouds trundled slowly across the...

My husband, Tom, and I got away for a week-long Hawaiian vacation. We needed something after ten years of marriage. We are both thirty-five. The last ten years have been good, but with three kids, there hasn’t been much opportunity for romance like we used to enjoy before kids. My parents offered to watch the kids, and we jumped at the chance. We had a good week, each of us trying our best to rekindle the flames of passio...