Helen Twelvetrees, Perfect Ingenue

No Smoking on These Premises

Spin Cycle

Kylie and I moved in a few weeks ago, and had hoped to establish ourselves as neighborhood fixtures by that summer. Whatever that meant. So far, it wasn’t like the old days: no meeting the doorbell with the surprise of old Mrs. so-and-so bearing ...

Much Obliged

In 1980s New York, three deadbeat high school friends become fascinated by a weird local family, especially when the son joins their class at school.

The Weird Family

“Today’s the day,” my father said, setting a meticulously wrapped, perfectly square box in front of me.
The box gleamed under silver wrapping paper, its edges crisped, corners sharp. Red ribbon bundled it tight, intersecting in perfect right angles. 

Present in Time

When I was a kid I loved Grandpa’s iced tea, but he never put enough powder in the mix so his tea was always weak. He was robbing me of a taste. After he’d left the room I’d add another spoonful of powder to my glass and it was always much better.

Iced Tea

 It was the night before Adrian Price’s fifty-third birthday. On the bright side, Ida had agreed to go out with him to celebrate. On the dark side … fifty-three. Yes, certainly worse than fifty-two, but to Adrian Price’s mind, worse even than ...

Fifty-three

We had just buried Nora Naughton. My heart ached at her loss and for the loss suffered by her father, my friend and former teacher, Professor Theodore Naughton. Many had come to Nora’s grave ...

Nora Naughton

The train went dark as lights flashed outside in the East River Tunnel, or maybe they flashed inside my train car. Whichever, my eyes betrayed reality and focused instead on surroundings akin to an experimental film. The rough rails tossed me ...

Umbrella

Jeff Bordick rose from his seat and pedaled hard. Everyone said the baseball card crackling between his spokes sounded like a motorcycle, but he didn’t think they were really listening. Sounded more like a bird, like one of those plump and ...

Billy Smith Blues

I had to pick up Mom’s prescription and was further taxed with burning the extra fifty dollars she had pressed into my hand on two lottery tickets. Just two? What the ...

Cliff Aliperti

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