The preacher was a neat spare man in a yellow shirt and navy blue slacks. Had she not seen the maroon Bible pressed underneath his arm, she’d have mistaken him for a Vista Volunteer.
Category: short story
Lumpy McGhee, 1921-2007
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve seen enough of human nature.”
Rising, a short story by Joan Spilman
Grandma looks bewildered, like a child who’s been tricked. I’ve seen this look on her face before. In the hospital, mostly in the evening. The physical therapist told me not to worry. “It happens with stroke patients. We call it sundowning. They get confused. Expect her to have good days and bad. Expect her to cry and be moody. Don’t be alarmed at outbursts, accusations.” I’ve never feared for anything until now.
Long Distance, a short story by Joan Spilman
We were a couple. Nobody on the floor but us. This went on for, oh, I don’t know how long. He even begged me to go away with him.