A 10 pm departure. Only a half hour out of Kunming and already the windows displayed a repetitive wheel of blackness. The 66 hard beds in car five were half full. Families with small children, students, some middle-aged business men in button down shirts, the ubiquitous black leather shoe of the Chinese male.
I am delighted to report my short story, New to America, was selected for This Great Society’s 2013 Best Of Fiction Issue. Via This Great Society, read more
I have recently completed a draft of something long and feverish and I intend to send it out soon with my heart in my throat where it belongs and always does, I believe, its best work. At night I will tuck myself in and listen for the frozen thrum of snow on the panes. It is best to be alone.
My birthday, and the Hong Kong guy gave me a card. This is what it said:
“Sixty six days ago you were on the other side of the planet.
Fifty one days ago we met.
The woman is a very thin woman.
She wears a severe black coat.
The woman hastily enters the train.
She moves between the people like an eel, slithering toward a seat.
The woman glowers into a book.
The nearby paddy fields deepened into an evening glow and I became newly aware I was walking in Bali with an old friend by a beautiful beach. I probably couldn’t be happier. So this is it, I thought. My happiness peak. This is as good as it gets. And I have no end in sight, no plans to leave.