She couldn’t see what was actually there — the landscaping. All she could see were dollar signs, thousands of them suspended in mid-air, floating over each new plant, each well-placed sprinkler head, every curve of terraced orderliness on the hillside
Daddy died when I was a baby. Mama says that when I was born, and daddy still had steady hands, he could hold me in just one palm and rock me to sleep. She says he would smile while I tried to keep my eyes open just to stare at his.
“She’s more beautiful than the stars,”
The day was hot, even for late June. The sky, not blue, but blank and monochrome, took on proportion and shape only as it met the earth at the far horizon. The haze of the flat Delta waved and seemed nearly to pulsate in the otherwise mid-afternoon stillness
From the window of her third story condo that overlooked Auden School, where her son was in first grade, Edie used her son’s binoculars to watch Carson Yates sit in her BMW 7 Series in the school parking lot. Carson’s boy, Shelby, was in Teddy’s class. Carson used the five minutes prior to the dismissal bell to dig out her makeup bag
To get there, head south on 307, towards Apkaloosa, not Siskahatchee.
Go past the Big Top flea market , where they sell pecans in half the stalls, like they’re in Georgia or something
Charmaine held the glass painting in front of her like a dance partner, studying the acrylic mermaid: her seaweed bikini, ocean-blown hair fanned behind her. “Look,” she told Meg, “it’s called ‘Mermaid with Lost Hair"
The Tennessee sweatshirt marked for six dollars was easy enough to dismiss as a coincidence since it stands to reason that my ex-wife could not have been the only Volunteer fan in the entire city of Greenville. Even though it looked to be her size and, upon inspection, had a grease stain in the shape of a kidney bean
“Let the dead bury the dead,” J.T. says, and then honks and tries to switch lanes. We are inching across the Midland Boulevard bridge that crosses the Arkansas River. This used to be the easy way to get from Fort Smith to Van Buren
The proprietress stepped out the front door of her well-kept three bedroom home at 522 Liberty Street, the faint sound of a jukebox in her parlor seeping through the front windows. In two hours it’ll be dark enough to turn on my sign, she thought
As soon as the velveteen curtains closed at the front of the stage, Francine Fontaine quickly grabbed up her discarded garments and escaped into the wings to get out of the way for the next dancer. On her way to the shared dressing room, she passed the toothless old doorman