Ginny Cupper took me in her car out to the spread fields of Indiana. Parking near the edge of woods and walking out into the sunny rows of corn, waving seeds to a yellow horizon. She wore a white blouse and a gray patch of sweat under her arms and th...
Revenge is what I want. Nothing but pure unadulterated revenge. But my mother brought me up to be a lady.
She thought too that women didn't know what to do with themselves these days which could turn them into harridans. Hardly a female friend she knew wasn't miserable. Either mind dumb with children, or in the married condition married to an earnest toi...
See all the women seated, youth in their face lifts, old age in their hands.
Writing is turning life's worst moments into money.
