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Finally I stepped out, looking as elegant as I ever have, in electric blue silk, my hair stylishly vertical. R. whispered, “You look so Republican.” (A week later, he finally apologized.)
By Ellen Carter, SparrowNovember 1995I had gone no more than a few steps when I felt a hard punch in my back followed instantly by the unforgettable sensation of skin and muscle tissue parting. Silva had stabbed me about six inches above my waist, just beneath my rib cage.
By Bruce ShapiroJuly 1995It may not matter anymore where any of us have actually been. We can now visit our national parks by videocassette, in which, as one company offering such tapes promises, “the remarkable sights and sounds are preserved for you.”
By Keith BromleyFebruary 1995Someone who should have listened to her intuition, a beautiful brunette, a cat woman
By Our ReadersDecember 1994Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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