Later you would call it an accident, when the guests found you in the kitchen bleeding into the duck confit. When that didn’t work, you blamed me, just to save your own skin. Yet we know the truth, don’t we? And when we hear your confession, my name will be cleared once and for all, …
“I’m going to marry him,” my sister says, standing in my kitchen. I don’t want her in my kitchen. I wonder if she can feel me not wanting her in my kitchen. “Do you love him?” I ask. “He’s wonderful. He loves me so much.” “That’s not a reason to marry him.” “No,” she says. …
I was first introduced to Mary Miller and her work in a circuitous way. Upon joining the magazine and learning the ropes, I was asked to check out her story in issue #1 and see if I would like to do an interview with her. I was also given her debut novel Last Days of …