vignette

The Big C

Ginger sits on the love seat, surrounded by friends. “Momma is sure he’ll get better,” she says of her brother Fred, “but …

“So there IS someone else!” Ginger spits the words at me. Seeing her lovely face all red and blotchy cuts me to …

Fred shook with anticipation as he entered the bedroom. The wind that constantly blew in across the rocky coastline of his village …

Fred — that was the persona he had adopted on earth — floated in microgravity at the controls of his ship far …

Ginger held her breath, put a hand on each leg and spread them gently. Tentatively, she explored between them with her fingers. …

In her comment on last week’s post Aymiee asked whether I have considered a graphical interface for Ginger and Fred. While I’m …

“Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. The stranger’s eyes blazed. With one hand he held her wrist. With the other he tugged …

Fred tapped his favorite Montblanc pen absent-mindedly while staring at the monitor. He had used the pen as a murder weapon once. …

Fred winced involuntarily from the pain as he reached across the small folding table. He handed a paper plate to each of …

Ginger felt like a fool and worse, a cliche’, sitting on the couch in T-shirt and sweatpants, holding a half-empty carton of …

Ginger blinked into the bright sunlight and cleared her throat. “Death occurs in an instant,” she began. “So in a way, losing …

Ginger sat in the dappled light under the apple tree in her front yard. Summer sun had freckled her nose and lightened …