Monthly Archives: August 2013

Leaving and Hiding

I’m trying to get caught up on whatever it is that has gotten away from me so that I might be afforded the opportunity to get away from it in a couple of weeks. Much to my dismay, I have … Continue reading

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The Reader

I finished Richard’s Story, which is Richard Daybell’s story because he provided the inspiration for it by holding a mirror up to my words so I could see them better. It was also Lucy’s story. I had to get the … Continue reading

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The End

Once I settled in Boston, I began to experience an inside out deja vu. Each day I was confronted by a familiar truth that seemed new to me. I found myself wondering why it had taken me so long to … Continue reading

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Going South

Ambrose was waiting for me when I arrived. “This isn’t funny, Lucy. It’s serious. Kindhearted Richard has married Gloria Porier.” “He did NOT!” “Yes, he did.” Gloria 40 plus, a sequel spouse, married the same guy 5 times, owned a … Continue reading


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Atlantic Freedom

I questioned the purpose in my productivity; I wasn’t saving lives or growing cabbages to feed the masses. I was gainfully employed, passing time with piles and stacks of papers. I hadn’t given up entirely on sea dreams or loitering … Continue reading

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The hotel routine fostered impartial contemplation. In spite of myself, I excelled at organizational productivity. I worked my way from managing the café, through night audit-an accounting function, right up to a support position in the executive offices where I … Continue reading

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Coming and Going

I was close to Ambrose, closer to him than almost anyone. He was accessible. He was handsome. His company was a great relief when I was lonely. I was never lonely for Ambrose, specifically. When loneliness struck I was lonely … Continue reading

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Noah’s Virtues

The sky was autumn gold turning to twilight. The lights in the office cast shadows of the window grilles onto the paved lot. My father’s face was draped in hurt, the kind I’d seen only once before, the day my … Continue reading

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The Unknown

My father, never a telephone conversationalist, called me. His request was brief, “Please come home. We need your help.” My father never asked anything of me, not one time.  “I’m on my way.” I bought a ticket and I flew … Continue reading

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Vagabond Spirits

I squandered a proportionate amount of time on Cooper. I had a lot of time ahead of me so I could spare the small donation I made to his endeavors. I won’t lie and pretend it didn’t provoke me to … Continue reading

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