Tag Archives: Leah Browning

Early Morning

The woman emerged from the forest behind the house, as if she’d become lost in an intricate dream, or a fairy tale: as if she’d been wandering in the wood for so long that her hair had turned gray and … Continue reading

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The Night He Broke His Collarbone

The diaper commercials never show all the waiting: the outer room at the dentist or the living room when he’s out late or at his bedside, in the emergency room, waiting to take the X-rays or hear the results. Or … Continue reading

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On the Way Back to the Museum

It was the first time in San Francisco, the time I saw a junkie step off the curb in front of an oncoming car. I was in a hurry, too; you were waiting for me (or I thought you were) … Continue reading

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In the Chair Museum

On Christmas Day, we drove north to spend the afternoon with friends. I was homesick for New Mexico and brought biscochitos in the shape of stars. We all walked to Montara State Beach where it was cold and windy and … Continue reading

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Every Year on Your Birthday

There is no cake. I can’t find my glasses, my shoes, the remote control. I shuffle around in my bathrobe and slippers. I shuffle from room to room. Every song on the radio reminds me of you. That one time, … Continue reading

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Princess Street, 1 A.M.

I. I don’t know how long he’s been trying to maneuver his friend into the waiting cab. The door is hanging open, illuminating the cab driver’s patient face as the drunk man walks instead into the street, his voice too … Continue reading

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It Must Have Been the Fourth of July

It must have been the fourth of July, dusk in Lansing, the same fireworks we saw years earlier, in Delaware with E & K, when something went wrong with the explosives, the wind— and bits of debris rained down on … Continue reading

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