Category: Fiction

We only ever called him Bignami, and what a name it was. You’d hear it ringing out over the quad like the chatter of myna birds: ​Big – naaa – me! read more

The difference between my life in Tennessee and my life in the big city amounted to hammocks.

I said this slowly because he looked drunk— likely dim prior to drunk— nonetheless a certain shade of peculiar which seemed attractive. From a distance at first, and now, up close. read more

It had been a rough summer; they had tried to sell the house, beginning in the spring, but had failed. Priscilla wanted to lower the price and move on, he would have just as soon stayed if no one met the price they’d agreed on, and so they sank into a state of silent hostility. If she brought it up he’d remind her that they had a deal; he didn’t want to talk about it, which she took correctly to mean he didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to do the thing that would make her happy. read more

Three forceful knocks on the door of Joe’s Tavern are unacknowledged. Joyful voices and laughter are heard inside. The knocking starts again and doesn’t stop until someone near the door decides to see what’s going on. read more

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Now, look, I’ve been at this for more than forty-five years — long before Satish was even an itch in his father’s pants. I started with nothing, squatting on roadsides, selling roasted chana and peanuts off a gunny sack. They called me “Joker” because of how my wide smile always stayed on, even when dust, thick as chickpea flour, covered my face and hair. read more