Fiction

She has been here before, on the same baby blue tile, stroking my hair, preaching the hollow words of God’s will. Thankfully she isn’t doing that yet. I don’t believe…

I don’t remind him that three of his siblings died as babies. My mother-in-law relied on elders who relied on incense and prayer to cure everything from fever to diarrhea.…

Mom is still asleep. These days she sleeps a lot. A nurse comes in three times a week to help, but mostly it’s just me and Dad looking after her.…

Today she wears deep plum nail polish, and when we leave for school I notice she is wearing her hair over to the side, exposing the milky-white flesh of her…

The old dog puts her head in my lap, and I’m glad we don’t have to speak.

I pick up the crumpled note to my mother and unfold it. I used to write letters to her all the time when Benji was a baby.

They would’ve worn silk kimonos if they were older. Instead, they wear barrettes, the color of pearl, the silver clasps cleaned with toothpaste by Jun’s mother…

I pull off my shoes, sliding my feet through the sand as I make my way to the water’s edge, where I stand very still, trying to decide which way…

My mother always comes home from work late, but this summer she’s been coming home even later.

She sludged through her waking hours, a once-award-winning architect now walking in a blind haze through the aisles of Target, impressed with herself on the days she didn’t put her…

Always have a long-term project and do a little each chance you get. Make sure it takes years, he admonished my sister and me. A project you never think you’ll…