Jules stepped through the wall, into the old, flat world of the painting. “Madam?” The guard poked her head from the real world into this one. “Would you like me to take your picture?” One end of the gallery was a gilt-framed proscenium. Behind it was a replica of an old Dutch kitchen with a …
I’m not a violent person, but I do have a fantasy of punching him in the face. Last I heard, he still lives in New York, where I have recently returned after a decade away. In my fantasy, I run into him on the sidewalk or the subway and land a good right hand to …
The night before I introduce the unit on reproduction, I dream of losing teeth. In the space in between sleep and wake, eyes yet open, I am certain they are truly gone. My husband Wallace is asleep beside me, flat on his back, hands folded just so upon his chest, a picture of death. I …