My mother sent me a blender for Christmas. It’s still in the box. I understand why she did it. Her young son moved over a thousand miles away and has little in the way of household goods. I don’t know what I’d ever use it for, making margaritas perhaps. That sounds like too much work, […]
Mike was an ogre or at least, looked like one. He was stooped with a barrel chest and protruding belly, precariously balanced on a pair of twisted, spindly legs. His scarred face was surrounded by a mat of uncombable dark hair and matching beard. We lived in the same apartment building for several years, until
