“Come Rifka, it will be a game. We will be able to swim to the bottom where there is a playground and lots of children playing.”
Murder on the Danube
The Wedding Specialist
Reba sat in her usual place in a chair next to the bride. Her head was bent over the list she held in her palm; accounts of gifts and givers. Rows of names neatly recorded against each gift, in her pearl-like handwriting. She had done this innumerable times, at every family wedding.
The Guest
First, the car door. Slow to open. Then the visitor. Slow to emerge. It seemed she was having some trouble connecting with her purse. Problem apparently resolved, she finally tottered out, only to struggle with the car door, which didn’t catch the first time she tried to slam it, swinging back and nearly knocking her over. A second try, a little unsteady but with follow-through that did the job, left her teetering. It didn’t take much to see that something wasn’t right.
We’ll Meet Again
I threw a house-warming party. It was a mild evening and I opened the windows in the sitting room. A smell of pepperoni wafted up from the pizza place a few doors down. About a dozen people came. I invited Simon, but he was ghosting me.
The Reunion
We talked our way to a raggedy field, where we sat in the sparse grass and he condemned our past relationship, bid it good riddance, flipped it off. After half an hour of this I asked if we could find a place for me to pee, which led us to stand and to walk more, two hours more, to be precise.
A Terrible Dizziness
“Who is this?” I asked, exasperated.
“I asked you first,” he said.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Okay, I didn’t. This is Elmer Doyp.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Oh no, I’m not,” he said.