Maxie Dash, a famous beauty, a fashion icon, the face of many national TV ads, finds the perfect man for her second husband. All he asks in return is that she give him her love and her unswerving loyalty and agree to know nothing -- absolutely nothing -- about his business.
Rigoberto did not respond. Then Cynthia looked at him, properly looked him up and down, and that was when she noticed the dart sticking out of his neck.
Natalia had grown to despise those who preyed on the weak. The innocent. Although to be fair it was harder and harder these days to find the innocent when so many had surrendered to self-absorption and greed. When there were so many bullies, child abusers, wife-beaters.
The little bike wound up, down, between trees. This certainly was unusual, but she wasn’t complaining despite the bouncing up and down over the now-nonexistent road.
On this Christmas eve we publish the O. Henry short story, 'The Gift of the Magi,' with illustrations by Adam Gudeon, a story that reminds us of what it means to give the gift of love.
My wife insists that I am never at a loss for something to write. It is how I sustain my idleness. Her belief in my productivity is almost as good as my actually being productive.
So here was this woman I’d never met — I did have the sense that I’d seen her before somewhere or other but still -- storming into my office to argue about what day it was. “If it was Wednesday,” I said, “Haggert would have been here instead of me.”
If you’ve ever thought that “the contemporary art world is in many respects a criminal enterprise,” then you shouldn’t miss this talk on August 6, for this is exactly the sort of idea that Richard Vine will be exploring.
So, feeling anything but grateful, carrying an overnight case in each hand, Leo lets himself into the motel room while Sara takes the puppy on the stretch leash, the two wandering into the distance like snow ghosts.
... so this sentence, which is the story, which embodies the story, cannot be allowed to, has to be held in abeyance as it acknowledges an implicit mortality wholly alien to the nature of perfection ...
In Roy’s hometown in Vermont, everyone knew about his tragic loss. Here in New York City, his anonymity was almost comforting. He could wear his loss invisibly for a change. This was oddly a relief.
