“So,” he says, moping his nostril rims with a tissue, “what’s your interest in the frog?”

Mrs. Watkins checks her hat in the mirror. A mauve cap with glued-on feathers in a darker shade, and a veil that doesn’t clear the tip of her nose—perfect. It says grief, but not too much. She checks her invitation from HelloAgain. It’s her first outing since Jim’s death six weeks ago.

The baby was loud and stupid, and a baby. River didn’t know what to do. He’d never had a baby before. One day he looked in the toilet and there it was.

The geek I call “grocery boy” at Kroger is named Daniel.
No one nicknamed him or if they did it was Mars or Pluto
or Too-Smart-For-His-Own-Good.

Any farmer will tell you:
Nothing clears land quite like a goat,
Save for a Bobcat—
The 3650 Utility Vehicle—not the mountain lion.