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Spot the Stations

When I wasn’t teaching social studies, I basically lived on my balcony.

Standards

He grabbed me, groped for my hips, kissing me, smelling my hair.

Star of Color Theory

I was a darling without even trying, kerchief and dungarees.

Stargazer

He could smell the bear’s breath, feel the hot huff against his ear.

Still Life

We left our lives behind us as fast as the Beemer’s zero to sixty.

Stones

Long and black, almost thick, the night comes to drape my shoulders.

Story of Man’s Desire

They say the night watchman is so good he hears the grass growing.

Storyteller and Showrunner Clyde Phillips

I think of each story as a big circle that’s all around me and I’m in the center.

Subject, Verb, Object

Turned out Bauer was one of the ones brought alive by misery.

Suburbia

Henry surprised himself with his inability to start looking for a job.

Summer

Up there there’s not a sound except for the wind and the buzzing of bees.

Summer, 1995

Three rooms, sight unseen, rented from a nurse and her husband.

Suspended

For the first two months of class, Toby did barely any writing at all.

Talinda

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Talinda would have said. If she had known.

Talk to Me

“Whoa, look—the monkey prof. Can you believe it? He was just on TV.”

Tell Me in Italian

She pulls quickly on her cigarette and blows it at me through the phone.

Ten Landscapes

“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”

Terminal Depression: Is It Just Me?

I want to dispute that depression is by definition pathological.

That Ain’t Jazz

They drink hard liquor and growl about which musicians are hot.

That Final Paper You Want from Me

The consensus was that all the great writers drank way too much.

That Summer, with Horses

My father was at an awful disadvantage in a sport where cunning is a virtue.

The Adventure of the Illustrious Client

Both Sherlock Holmes and I had a weakness for the Turkish bath.

The Aphorisms of Henry Adams

The woman who is known only through a man is known wrong.

The Applicant

I’m still in love with this filthy city, but now I know Berlin's love isn’t free.

The Art of Becoming a Citizen: A Meditation

It begins on the sunny morning of November 14, 1960.

The Barbarians

It was good they were Africans, she thought. It meant less danger.

The Beauty of the Night

All was hushed and stonily still, like the moon and its lights and shadows.

The Beginnings of a Storm

It’s a mistake to be here, he thinks, but he doesn’t turn around.

The Blue Hotel

“I suppose there have been a good many men killed in this room.”

The Bone Trees

The trees were a sign from the devil, a warning of the terror to come.