Wild River Review art by Christopher McCauley


Short Stories

My son Kyle has been in Florida. He says he’s coming to see me. Ha! I don’t bother giving him directions to the apartment. Even if he could find it, I sure as hell wouldn’t want him inside.

What she can’t feel is the ring lying heavily in his closest-to-his-heart breast pocket...

Mme Benhamou never leaves her apartment without her hat. It’s the ladylike thing to do since she was raised in France before people started living only for today, and yesterday’s manners were easily dismissed.

She pushed the flaps of the box closed and let her hair hang down into her face. She could feel her lip start to tremble, never a good sign, and John’s growing impatience.

“Is this a menopause thing or something?”