I need to see the color chart. I paint a lot. I really hate painting. I don’t understand colors, so I paint giant 4' x 4' sample squares before I begin, so that the Boss can see the colors. I have been told many, many times that saying something should be “white” doesn’t mean we have decided on a color. There are lots of whites. Lots and lots of…

WRITING A POEM

The thought comes in. An idea. A bright image. And then, structure. “I will write it.”

Four syllables. In each sentence. These paragraphs. They are so short!

A brain program. Give words a dose. And humans too. And readers: most. We’re reading short! On…

Dear girl at the city café,

You used to smile at strangers, with a warmth I’d never seen in all my thirty-one years. You would immediately know our names as we approached the counter and would greet us with a shy tilt of the head and a look of recognition, so that we all turned to you. For the few seconds…

My grandfather was a southern man — Kentucky bred, his drawl thick and sweet like winter honey. I called him Papaw, and he always smelled like aftershave and fresh, earthy pipe tobacco. When I think of that smell now, I am suddenly five years old again — sitting at his feet and playing with the white rabbit’s foot he always kept with him.

I used to work in a coffee shop where I’ve had a chance to observe a lot of people. Their behaviour, who they meet with, why they come to the shop, what drinks they order and how they feel about themselves. I’ve always imagined how the rest of their lives look like. I’ve decided to write a series of stories called ‘Reality Plus’: a collection of…