You meet your friend, Will, for a day of skiing. No big deal. Just another Saturday. Beautiful snowfall.
Cold but sunny out. Perfect for carving through moguls...
Chicago in the spring. It used to be freezing this time of year but now it’s quite warm for March. Global warming I’m sure. No matter, I think I’ll read my paper outside. When I say warm I mean nearer to the mid fifties, but I do like the cold air. It invigorates me, wakes me up, gets me ready for my day....
It was only a mile and a half drive to Rebecca’s place, but damn if it wasn’t the longest drive I ever had to make for a woman. I’ve done a lot of shit for women. Quit a job, moved to another city, even went back to college...
"Just remember how fortunate you are." My wife says, helping me unbutton my syrup stained shirt. "How many people in this world even have a favorite shirt, much less others to replace it with after the dribble syrup all over it?"...
All I’m gonna say is, up front, I had nothin’ to do with it. I’m innocent. I was just trying to mind my own business.
It was late and I was just sittin’ in my place watchin’ tv. My usual thing...
I flipped a quarter to the bum. He looked new; I don’t recall seeing him around here before. But then again who pays attention. They’re bums, right? "I remember you." He says in that gritty voice. "What?"...
This is the first story I ever wrote in the 8th grade. I submitted it to the Wyoming Young Authors Competition and it won first prize in the science fiction division in 1986.