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Tag Archives: Leah Browning
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
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
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
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
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
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