“The Experts” by Amy Rigby
“Mommy, can we go to McDonald’s?” Hazel asked in her piping voice. . . .
“Mommy, can we go to McDonald’s?” Hazel asked in her piping voice. . . .
Hers wasn’t the first body to be found in the overgrown lot that once was a marsh that sucked and pulled with the tidal waters of the East River . . .
Rage. The worst kind. That’s what filled Brody Altmeyer’s entire body after he finished reading the TechCrunch article on his iPhone . . .
The evening sun appeared to rush toward the horizon much sooner than it had yesterday . . .
I woke up at 1:00 a.m., when Jimmy had a bad dream, and at 3:45, when Sarah peed in her bed, and when my alarm went off at seven I got up and stepped on a lego and by mistake Jimmy got toothpaste on my last clean pair of pants, and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, really crappy day . . .
Ash Wednesday. The day after Carnival—the farewell to flesh, the not-so-greatest show on Earth . . .
On Clearwater Lake Road, there’s a fork. To get to Gerson’s U-Pick-It, you turn right. But I got turned around in my head and drove left . . .
Moments after another Bears turnover, Ben comes wobbling down the hall wearing his mother’s fuchsia stilettos . . .