Peter Anderson - Fiction
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for Edward Gorey
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for Edward Gorey
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Every time Sarah looks across the farmyard from the kitchen, she sees the debris that litters the lengthening weeds between the house and the barn. Fou…
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The priest saw him first, as he faced the congregation during the litany, the homily and the vows. The bride and groom saw him during the vows, from th…
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Officer Harris watched how they moved around, every day, each day little different than any other. In the early morning he watched how they drifted out…
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Hank couldn’t smoke in his room, nor anywhere in the building. You would think, he often said to himself, that in treating one big addiction they would…
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Sammy folds the letter neatly, bending the bottom third upward, aligning the edges and pressing a sharp crease with his thumb. Then the top third, down…
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“I’m a hoteller,” Harry would always say, beaming with mirth, after he had strolled up to the front desk, leaned on his elbow at one corner, and gazed …
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The street traffic outside moved in a steady blur, buses and cars streaming just beyond the parallel-parked cars that lined the curb. The pedestrians c…
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Ollie was dozing off again, slumped on the backless stool with his shoulders pressed against the cigarette rack behind him, when the electric door swoo…
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They walk slowly, arm in arm, along the downtown street. They lean toward each other for strength, for support, to keep from falling to the sidewalk sh…
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As Richie reaches the car, his cigarette has burned nearly all the way down. He sits behind the wheel, alone with his thoughts, remembering, and flicks…
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