On the way home from the office, Brownfield stopped at Publix to pick up some fruit for the kitchen table. He liked having fresh yellow bananas and a few red and green apples in the big bowl he brought back from Sicily as he sipped iced grapefruit juice and read the New York Times. Also, it would be nice to have a cold beer during the baseball game that would be on television that night, so he considered picking up a six-pack of Heineken. But then Eleanor would raise hell about how he drinks too much, which was true, but did she have to be such a bitch about it? He decided it wasn’t worth the fight so he let it go. No beer tonight.
Tag: short story
It was cold, dark and early in the morning and the boy was under the bedspread, the big white George Washington bedspread that smelled like his mother, when he first heard whispering out in the hallway of the big old house on Long Island. The boy couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized the whispered voices of his father, brother and sister, and he could tell that whatever was going on, it was not good. This wasn’t a fun kind of whispering, this was more like a keep-Joe-in-the-dark kind of whispering. Another thing was they weren’t pushing him to …