“I said, can you get me something to eat bitch?” I stiffen. This is early on in my emergency medicine residency and I haven’t yet learned to reply, “That’s Doctor bitch to you, sir.”
Category: July 2016
Four Times More Likely by Rae Pagliarulo
When my father said the word predisposed, I felt a twinge of nerves. We were having “the talk.” Not the one about birds or bees, but something bigger and scarier that my brother and I would have to inevitably face…
Gas Masks and Wedding Vows by Jennifer Lang
The shrill woke me out of my sleep. An azaka, one of the newest words in my growing Hebrew vocabulary, a continuous alarm with an ascending and descending tone, an eerie up-then-down sound, echoed into the onyx sky.
The Wedding Ring by Chelsea Laine Wells
I was eight years old the first time my father pawned his wedding ring for drug money. When the fight started, I was standing heedlessly behind my mother thinking about birds.
Southbound, 1975 by Katie Daley
Even though the train must still be at least 50 miles out, I can feel it chugging towards us in the darkness. It’s out there like an old friend in the night who’s got the means to come gather me up and take me away.
Mismatched by Ola Osaze
You are wearing your purple knee-length dress because it’s the most pomp and circumstance you could muster for this day. Your brown flats are not so festive – you want to bend down and rub the scuff off the left one, but you don’t care enough.
The Amazing Technicolor Horse Dream by Lisa Romeo
I knew it was a lot to ask for, even though my father was rich and even though I was used to lavish vacations and a constant stream of new clothes.
One Day in August by Dan Grote
I’m no Lindbergh, but for 20 minutes or so one picturesque late summer, I, in my own adolescent mind, ruled the skies over Northern Illinois.
Cristina’s World by Debra L. Eder
Ming joined our English conversation course, already in progress, when she first came to New York City. Twenty adult English language learners and me, their U.S. born teacher.
My First Flight by Ted Duke
I was six, going on seven, when my brother, Nelson, came home on leave for Thanksgiving in 1943. World War II was in full swing. He was a Lieutenant Junior Grade in the U. S. Navy and a designated Naval Aviator. … I wanted to be just like him.