Diane Williams

His spaniel was up on its hind legs, paws on his master’s belly, where my paws happily had lately been.

He was my host, and I ate his food, while others there were still at it, too, and the plate set in front of me gave off a hopeful fragrance.

This man, not seated at the table – my host – stood cross-legged next to it, while balancing himself against a dining chair.

No, I was...

‘Thank god you don’t hold a grudge,’ he said, and I discovered a refreshing feeling in the room Seth Sharples and I decided to share.

He is an inamorato from years ago.

Of course, this feeling vanished as soon as I left that town.

At the airport ticket counter for my return, the fake eyelashes of the clerk nearly jammed themselves against her eyeglass lenses with her...

I think of her – this other woman I have never seen again – one arm flung out ahead while she spoke her emotions, her dress pressed back against her body by the wind, and for several moments she was my all, because I have been separated from my wife.

This woman on the village green told me she was very worried about the whales.

Of course, I spot women everywhere diving head-first...

We had our shoes off and maybe this was a place where we were washing for gold, somewhat lost in the world.       I see myself at my ease fifty years ago in this old photograph, and I have held on to a vial of gold dust – I don’t know where it is – and a ruby – a ruby crumb really. It is red.       She had...

‘You can’t really think I would like this!’ and he hands the gift back to his wife. ‘Did you ever know me to have anything like this?’     ‘Yes, me!’

‘Did you ever find out about that tree?’ the wife asks.     ‘A lady in the park told me – it’s catalpa!’   ...