Photography by Leeta Harding
by Carolyn Oliver
As a rule, Sister Agatha arrived three minutes early to any appointment, earthly or divine. Her promptitude never wavered, except when she started using a walker. Then she was five minutes early.
by Leah Downing
He sits on the couch, pants slightly below his waist, showing plaid underwear when he stands, but not a lot. Not the insolent, pants half-way down the ass look. A pleasant young man. From a wealthy family. Gorgeous mother, silvery lipstick and perfect highlights, handsome father (voted “hottest Dad” by Amy’s friends.)
The Red Skates
by Phillip Sterling
Will he reach for them, or her? He arrives in the spring, near enough to Easter that perhaps a gift is involved and the pond still frozen, where the geese walk awkwardly, un-Christ-like. Up the hill, the Greyhound has come and gone, and the man that stepped down from the bus, the man walking briskly to the other side of town, where work is rumored to be found, pulls up abruptly when he sees the woman with the red skates.