Trespass

Trespass

Every day, before I begin my rounds, I stop at our home’s shrine to Zheng He, the one whose voyages over 300 years ago started…

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The Fruit Grove Girl

The Fruit Grove Girl

I’m not sure why I didn’t tell Grandma about the girl sleeping in our fruit grove. It was around midday when I found her. The…

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Insomnia

Insomnia

Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato…

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Being Red

Being Red

I haven’t really done much. The least I can do is write this down while I can. I was a lazy redhead – the sloth…

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Grace and Jimmy

Grace and Jimmy

When I was a child, I saw my father as the Indian Jimmy Dean. He was a young god.  That’s why my mother married him.  …

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The Story of the Woman Who Fell in Love with Death

The Story of the Woman Who Fell in Love with Death

In an armchair at the center of a Starbucks, nearly hidden by its arms, a young boy reads, perplexed but concentrating hard: Once upon a…

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Bunny Hop

Bunny Hop

My destination was about 30 miles from Reno-Tahoe International Airport. I drove along I-580, to US-395 S., to US-50 and took exit 39 and as GPS…

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Binding Off

Binding Off

Things were moving too slowly.  By September, there ought at least to have been a back and a front.  Sprouts of sleeves.  But her mother…

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The Chilean Miners

The Chilean Miners

I never chose to be a writer: it chose me.  I’ve even tried to rid myself of it for good reasons, financial and protectively egoistic,…

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Faces

Faces

Haunting eyes on the front page of the Sunday Chronicle stared back at Angelo so darkly that he held his breath. He removed his glasses,…

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Errands for Sir

Errands for Sir

On Thursdays, because he got home past midnight, Yadav wouldn’t sound the car horn. He’d wait outside and flick the headlights on and off. If…

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