Fiction

Salt

The incontestably worst part of living in Vermont was that the lawn behind Timmy’s house had no snails. There were slugs in the garden, fat slugs that he had only touched once to grab and pour salt on, but he …

Father Fox

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, before he told me the story.

My father’s tales starred cheats, thieves, and priests, and he figured at thirteen I was old enough to hear one of his favorites. It began like this: once he …

Bond

As with any illegal drug, Bond came to me through a friend, my officemate at the graphic design firm where I produced diagrams for mathematics textbooks. Larry was a compact, cherub-faced man with an inappropriate mane of long, thinning blond