
Scars
A short story
“That story’s sadder’n a armless old man in a room full of skeeters,” Raynelle said. “You sorry sons of bitches tell the depressingest lies I ever heard.”
Some people say that when a woman moves 1,500 miles from her mate to get a Ph.D. in women’s studies, it’s the beginning of the end
Albro was messed up, a snake eating its tail. He couldn’t think of anything but her hot, ringless hand, the big haunches under her dress
He was a father, a husband, and a video artist, who created experimental films. But he hadn’t always been any of these things, and today his past was catching up with him
He knew he was a cliché: the groom with cold feet. But everybody has dobts , he told her. Didn’t she have any doubts?
That was how things happened, Teddy decided. That was how God ran his game. He sat up there and thought of mean things to do and then changed his mind
Even after all those years of feminist theory here she was, asking for criteria by which she should judge other women, hoping to find a suitable wife for her friend