It had been two hours since I blew out twenty candles on the cake Ma made for me, but my ass was still parked in a chair at Restaurante Tipico.
It was always hard for me to get away from the Dominican joint that my extended family ran. I needed to be on a train headed back to Harkness College. But here I was at table seven in the back corner, rolling silverware for the evening rush, the same way I’d done my whole life...
Standing on the snowy hillside under the December sun, Callie Anders found herself pulsing along with an unfamiliar bass line. The heavy groove scraping through the oversize speakers was the sound of bands she didn’t recognize, played in clubs she’d never visited...Read More
“Ah, but let her cover the mark as she will, the pang of it will be always in her heart."
— The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Chapter One: The Goalie's Job
The minute I heard the hum of the garage door opener, I was in motion...Read More