Pamela Painter

Late Lunch; Early Dinner

By Pamela Painter

We’re having a late lunch, five women, widows now, who have been meeting once a month for forty years. “Dress-up…

Almost There

By Pamela Painter

He hands me a place card, high rag-content, from our glittering table with someone else’s name in calligraphy so elegant…

All False Starts

By Pamela Painter

That the dog didn’t bark was the first sign.  Who acts like that, who, tell me who acts like that…

office building at night

Office at Night

By Pamela Painter

They don’t seem to be working, though up to a few minutes ago, she was filing papers. A man (whom…

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