Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, June 28: She practices breathing the way the nurse at the hospital showed her, breathing in deep through her nose and holding the breath until her lungs flex with the urge to exhale, then breathing slowly until the air is thin between her lips. She hears the instructions in the nurse’s …

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, June 21: It began in the middle of her back. Sometimes by the end of the day, every inch of her seemed to itch: her shoulders, her scalp, the little nascent hairs on the backs of her arms. She itched from fatigue—from the desire to be done with the day—and usually her …

Sunday Six

Six five sentences for Sunday, June 14: Sometimes she feels sure there is a room beyond the light. If she stares hard into that excruciating light, she can almost see the details—almost a room hospital white and agonizingly clean, almost someone standing there, almost, almost, but not quite. She wakes herself up, but for a …

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, June 7: “Albie,” I say, “who do you think writes encyclopedias?” “Why does it matter who writes them?” I can tell he's getting impatient with me. “Do you think it’s one person who knows everything about everything in the world, or is it lots of people who only know a lot …

Sunday Six

Six five sentences for Sunday, November 3: Years from now, she will remember him as nothing more than a childhood fancy, a spirit dreamed up by a restless, willful, lonely little girl. On the occasions that she is called upon to reminisce on the subject—which will be more frequent than she would like—she will tell …

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, September 14: Never have clouds moved so slowly. I try to count the number of breaths it takes one of them to cross the lawn, but I lose count. In the whole time I’ve been watching, it’s moved only a quarter of an inch, as if it’s caught in some invisible …

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, September 7: Soon I will have outgrown the swing. Already its wood is growing porous and soft, the varnish all peeled off. One day I will jump off it and never come back. I’m thinking of the abandoned swing rotting away on its ropes when Albie rushes up behind me and …