Category: Fiction

Union Station was congested with trains when I finally returned to Chicago for good. In many ways, the three years I had been away seemed like a lifetime.

The smoldering butt dangled from her lips like the dripping tongue of a panting dog. From behind the smoke screen, and a beehive of blue hair, a gravelly voice uttered the words, “What’s your poison?”
Now, I’m not expecting to be able to eat off the floor of this greasy spoon, but, hey, maybe the spoon.

You can’t even begin to imagine the intense anxiety my mother and I felt when a telegram arrived while we were eating supper. We’d never received a telegram before, ever.