“I can’t quite believe this,” the specialist exclaims.
These are words I like to hear from my agent when she’s scanning my just-written manuscript.
But they are not words a doctor should express to a new patient after he has taken a biopsy of a gland that popped out of nowhere on an until-now rather nondescript index finger. Continue reading
I’m home making dinner and my cell phone rings.
I check the number and groan. Phone scammers now send calls using the same area code and first three digits of a nearby town. In my case, each call says “Groton.”
No one in Groton is on my address list.
I ignore the call and sauté the onions before the phone rings again. And three minutes later, again.
Just about ready to throw the phone in the drawer and lock it up, I notice that the “scammer” has left a voice mail message. Weird. Scammers never leave a “calling card,” so to speak. Continue reading
The stranger pulled off the hood of his cloak to reveal curly black hair, a cleft on his chin, and a quizzical expression on his handsome face. “I think we have a lot to discuss, my friend. Are you willing?”
He held out his hand. Nora clasped it like a woman drowning, even though she hadn’t known she’d been sinking.
“Yes,” she replied. (Are You Willing?)
But immediately Nora pulled her hand away.
But Nora wasn’t sure she was willing to explore the answers about who, or what, she really was with this dark-haired stranger who gave her the shivers. Continue reading
When Nora was young she allowed others to know of her difference. But many years ago she learned to keep her night-time charms to herself. Now, at 36 years, no doctors or therapists, no detectives or boyfriends could tell her what was “wrong” with her.
Absolutely nothing was wrong with her, and she kept it that way by keeping her secret to herself. Yes, she needed to be a solitary woman, but as a college professor, an opera lover, a hiker and a traveler, she could get out and about without colleagues figuring out what she was up to after midnight. Continue reading
