“The Meditations of Fra Colleoni” at Gravel

“But does it work?”

Dr. Seaver leaned back in his chair and blew on his mug of instant soup. The steam fogged his glasses. “Of course not. It’s just a thought experiment.”

“Oh,” I said, picking up a doohickey on the professor’s desk. “Of course.” The doohickey, or maybe gizmo is a better word, had protruding wires and springs and blinking lights that changed pattern as I turned the thing over in my hands. Dr. Seaver watched me indulgently.

“It’s based,” he continued, “on a faulty premise: the idea of the circular spectrum.”

“The what now?” I returned the gizmo to its spot.

Read the rest at Gravel

“Proof” at Revolution John

“A boy adjusts the position of a box of tissues on his desk and sits cross-legged on his bed. It is a Sunday afternoon and he has nothing else to do. The door to his room is closed, and nobody will bother him before dinnertime. He has all afternoon to make the box of tissues move with his mind…”

Read the rest at Revolution John

The Path

Over the chicken wire, under the fence post, across the field towards the huddle of trees in the distance. My heart flutters as I follow, because I’m following her. There is a still hum to the field as bugs hang in the air. The grass is as high as my waist, and when I see her almost to the trees I rush too much and fall. My hand is scraped and little beads of blood sprout at the base of the palm. I stop for a moment in the lee of the grass where it is cool and even quieter.

When I get up she is gone. I resume my run, ashamed and cautious and heart fluttering heavier than before. Continue reading The Path

Wednesday Afternoon at the Burger Cafe

A tiny cafe decorated in primary colors and a few items of well-placed kitch. On the left is a window and a glass door leading to the street. On the right is a counter and glass case displaying drinks. On the back wall is a sign saying “Have a Nice Life.” Continue reading Wednesday Afternoon at the Burger Cafe

Spinners

“I have good news and bad news, dear,” grandma says with a sly smile. “Bad news first: we’ve run out of jam for your muffin.”

I must look comically bereft. I’ve been visiting for a week and every morning I’ve had a pile of blueberry jam on an English muffin for breakfast. Grandma has offered pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon; but I have stuck with the muffins and the jam.

“The good news is there’s more in the cellar. Just go down the stairs and on the left there’s some shelves. There’s pickled tomatoes and pickled cucumbers and peaches and blueberry jam. You can’t miss the jam because it’s dark blue.” The pours herself some coffee and sits down with a soft “oy” at the kitchen table. “Go on now.” Continue reading Spinners