If you make a quick on-line search about loneliness in America, you may be surprised that between twenty to thirty-three percent of the population feels lonely every week. There is a myriad of causes for this condition which I am not qualified to delve into as my sociological skills are suspect, but phrases like depression, political angst, feed-back bubble, frustration with technology, uncertainty, isolation, and others, are all thrown around with rabbit-hole parsing. I wouldn’t know where to begin knitting together all the nuance of psychiatric terminology. I have been living alone and thinking about … Continue reading Journal of Absence by Fred Wilbur →
It will be a year, he says. The sun behind her covers the barman and his wall of drinkery in rosey light. A ceiling fan stirs fry-oil and lemon around them, but she still feels slick with sweat on her face and arms and between her thighs. She wishes she had chosen a different dress, or had put her hair up, or that they had chosen to eat at a more comfortable distance from nature. She sips her pina-colada, nods her head, and listens to the lazy waves. He takes a gulp of rum punch. … Continue reading Seagulls by Clyde Harkrader →
From beneath the dining room table he spots wisps of dust on chipped gray floorboards across the room. He hears his grandmother clop around the kitchen in her low-heeled shoes, into the pantry and out again. She places things hard and small and metal on the counter. The door to the Frigidaire slams shut with a soft burp. He scurries closer to the kitchen and peers around the corner, careful to remain in the shadow of the tabletop. He sniffs nutmeg, vanilla extract. He puts his fingers to his nose, but they smell of nothing … Continue reading Nosey by Bobby Rayner →
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