The Conductor

The bus jerks me awake. Or that’s what I tell myself. I still harbor a fragile little tendril of hope that I’m still sleeping, that this is only a dream. Awake. Asleep. Is there a difference? Or some method for knowing which is which? This bus is a train. Or is this train a bus?… Continue reading The Conductor

An Ugly Chair

Ordinary horror in the mundane The chair sits awkwardly in the shallow corner between the fireplace and the patio door (it’s a small apartment), shrouded under an ugly brown, queen-sized blanket I bought years ago on my way to a meditation retreat. That year we had a bitterly cold winter, and the retreat center was old… Continue reading An Ugly Chair