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Bindwater

Why the sisterhood had to build this pain in, with the Power always skipping a generation, the mothers and daughters always a loss to one another, she didn’t know. She had yielded to it until Annabelle became pregnant. Then, something with the fineness and power of a spiderweb had drawn the young woman, along with her husband, back to the neighborhood where she was born.

Dear Michael

Kevin Murray, retired, one-time police chief of a small midwestern city, turned on his electric typewriter and began his third letter of the day. “Dear Abbie Hoffman, It says in the newspapers you killed yourself because you weren’t getting enough attention. Makes sense. More sense than most of what you said. . . .”

Vigil

At first John had gone with one of the search parties, walking across the open fields dense with dried stalks. The men marched in a great straggled line, an arm’s length separating them, setting each foot deliberately. It was still dark and it was usual to delay the search until first light, but the autumn had turned winter suddenly. They were afraid: she was such a frail child.

Most Likely To Succeed

At home in Montgomery, Wanda’s azaleas are in full bloom, the whole front of the house covered in a profusion of lavender, pink, and fuchsia blossoms. Up here on Cape Cod, it is April and still there is frost on the windowpanes. Wanda’s daughter-in-law tries to fool everyone into believing it’s spring with the forsythia.

The Ethics Of Photography

An Interview With John Rosenthal

It’s hard not to see that a photograph is an act of aggression, no matter who is taking it. You’re stopping people from the flow of their lives, you’re cropping them from the space in which they live and have their being, you’re juxtaposing them with something that they didn’t know they were next to.

Discipline

The double-entry ledger system, pliés, a workable bicycle

Sheltr For Sad Ould Men

The old man had walked a long way, from afar, and he was not well. He wiped his forehead and raised his head. Around him were sand, thistles, and strangely — where did it come from? — a house.

Living In Lotus

Ever since the therapist said, “Rebecca, if only you’d let go once in a while, relax, flow, you’d be a lot happier,” I’d been trying to write in the lotus position.

Beauty

A field mouse, a newborn, a pair of mallards

Mary Unger, Empty

Mary waits at the foot of the stairs. She means to go up the stairs and back to bed but feels too exhausted to make the climb.