My Librarian - My Love_Asher Brightendale's Dilemma_The Packer Upper_The Smoker
Catalog Guide:
My Librarian - My Love
I was positioned in a knee-aching deep squat, searching for Gunter Grass on a low shelf, when the brilliance of two dark eyes appeared through an opening opposite me.My fingers gripped the edge of The Tin Drum to pull it free just as the librarian, on the other side of the aisle, was slipping No Great Mischief into its proper slot. She was sitting on a stool opposite me, in the M,N,O, aisle and I imagined her bare knees pressed firmly against the rigid spine of Alistair McLeod.Although rows of books separated us and I could only see her eyes, I noticed a softening in those ...
Asher Brightendale's Dilemma
Asher Brightendale’s DilemmasLike most things in Asher Brightendale’s life, his attempted suicide was an example of his penchant for dismissing any plan laced with the possibility of failure by summarily replacing it with an obstinate determination to perfectly execute his objective. I.E., he knew, or at least suspected, his suicide by drowning would probably fail, but the portent of humiliation and a damaged ego added to his implacable nature dictated he push ahead anyway. At just after nine p.m. Asher waded into Long Island Sound wondering which they’d find first, his body or his Salvatore ...
The Packer Upper
Today I dropped off three boxes of outgrown clothes: toddlers’ tops and pants; girls’ size-six summer stuff boys’ size-twelve shorts and tee-shirts. Not a tear shed, not a single sigh. My secret, you ask? Arm’s length. All were donations on behalf of my clients to the local Goodwill. I’m a professional packer-upper. My number is posted in the drop-off zones of every school anwww.onedoor.ccd daycare in the city. Feeling overwhelmed? Your children are in college and you still can’t bear to part with the first communion dress? You need some clothing donations packed up? Who ya gonna call? A packer-upper! I’m...
The Smoker
There is something special about the balcony; how you could be within feet of a person and yet in a different world, a different life. The balcony was where I sought refuge from my cold apartment on Canal Street. I had the AC motoring on but would step out and embrace the polluted air that struck me warm and sloppy like an open-mouthed kiss. On a balcony, you notice things you would never see otherwise. Suspended, it is impossible not to watch. Because of this, I knew the neighbor across the way always smoked on his balcony. It fit only one chair, and it was across the street, two stories down...