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A woman prays her husband will never stop looking when she undresses. We’ve come so much further than that. Chuck doesn’t notice me at all.
By Daniela KuperFebruary 1992Mark’s forehead smacks against the visor, but he’s held in by the steering wheel. Cindi finds herself in the air, and there is a moment of crazy exhilaration as she sees the jeep spin beneath her, as if some childhood dream of flying has come true.
By Richard GoldsteinJanuary 1992Neal fell in love with Linda in a single, violent onslaught of emotion, a torrent filled with restaurants, unexpected encounters, and flowers that were never roses.
By Daniel WardJanuary 1992I’ve taken one of the self-addressed envelopes you left on your father’s dresser and I’m writing to let you know a little about his first two weeks here at the Home.
By Robert P. WeintraubJanuary 1992I hospitalized an obsessive-compulsive depressive who had been trying to kill himself for four years. Fifty times he’d removed his head from the noose to check the lock on the door, change the color of his socks, tie a better knot.
By Adele LevinJanuary 1992A thousand stars, a billion. Thundering silence. It’s Tom who reaches over. He puts his hand on my chest and says, “I wish we had more grass,” and leaves it there. Till I curl up beside him.
By Andrew RamerDecember 1991Guess who this is. I won’t keep you in suspense. I am that tall dark and handsome ha ha jewelry salesman who got on your bus in Harrisburg PA last Tuesday. The one who asked is the seat next to you taken?
By Will WeisingerDecember 1991“Here, take this and get out of my sight already,” he’d yell, pushing money into my shirts and pants. I learned to keep my opinions to myself. I also wore clothes with lots of pockets.
By Janice LevyDecember 1991Somehow the knowledge of his identity passed through to me in the moment I stood there locked to him. It passed through his knuckles and into my skin. It burned out at me through his eyes.
By Robert KoehlerDecember 1991He’s functional now, of course, a basically normal guy. That’s what gets me — I look at him and marvel at what a ground of pure craziness that normality is built on.
By Tim FarringtonNovember 1991Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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