Recently, I overheard a colleague asking her manager about another staff member. He had joined six months ago, but my colleague had not seen him around for a while.
I was rummaging through a collection of papers and knick-knacks on my bedside dresser when I noticed a card from my sister.
My daughter will turn two this summer, and she has a new favorite word. “Mine!” seems to work its way into her limited vocabulary at a pretty regular rate.
Hi, I’m Raphael, and I’m a recovering perfectionist. I’ve been a perfectionist for as long as I’ve lived.
Yen* and I walked down a narrow alley in silence. A few days earlier, Yen had sent me a text message: “I want to go to this clinic where you can check for AIDS…”