Category Archives: Shelagh Power-Chopra

He went for his usual appointment with Lin, but she wasn’t there. Gone off her rocker, said her colleague, Suyin, a catty woman who chewed ginger and specialized in perms. Lin had been cutting his hair for months now, found … Continue reading →

I play poker with these guys on Tuesdays. Most of them are parents; smoking, drinking, holding kids under arms, talking politics. Some are lucky, others just dumb, not wise to the seasons, not wise to signals, not wise to love. … Continue reading →

When I hit the dog, Abe screamed like one of those girls in a Japanese horror movie–a shrill wail that went right through my skin. I didn’t feel much as I got out of the car–I was more annoyed at … Continue reading →

Maybe they’re done, maybe we can’t hold on to any of this anymore–this one whale town and its jiggery, sunken gait and sallow wooden fences, strewn with aged buoys and weak neighbors who walk the oyster shell driveways and brush … Continue reading →

Leonard mourned in the shower that morning. Stood under the cruel sting of hard water and blubbered into the mist. Kin had left last night, packed her silver suitcases with her lavender leotards and her surplus of cheap silver. All … Continue reading →