We have nine snowmen in our front yard. One snow child. In the past month or two, I rolled, lifted, and balanced balls of snow for their snow bodies, searched for sturdy twigs. My wife peeled carrots, dumped raisins...
Snow
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Pamela Painter
PAMELA PAINTER is the award-winning author of five story collections. Her stories have appeared in numerous journals and in the recent anthologies Flash Fiction America, Best Microfiction of 2025, Best Small Fictions 2025, and Wigleaf Top 50 2025. She has received four Pushcart Prizes, and her work has been staged by Word Theatre in London, New York, and LA.
Late Lunch; Early Dinner
We’re having a late lunch, five women, widows now, who have been meeting once a month for forty years. “Dress-up time” we call it because when you are our ages—86, 87, 91, and 93-- few events encourage one to don a...
Almost There
He hands me a place card, high rag-content, from our glittering table with someone else’s name in calligraphy so elegant I can’t read it without my glasses, and he says, “Pretend this is a hotel room-key for two...
All False Starts
That the dog didn’t bark was the first sign. Who acts like that, who, tell me who acts like that at a parent’s wedding? He was a Texas Holdem player and I’m Five Card Draw. His saxophone rode the piano, drums,...
Office at Night
They don’t seem to be working, though up to a few minutes ago, she was filing papers. A man (whom we assume is her boss) sits reading a page at his desk, holding it beneath a green banker’s light. Her plump right arm...