Jim’s car was missing. A tricycle with a note was parked in its place. “Late for SAT. Borrowed car.” It’s difficult raising a genius.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” said Zara, “You’re the best mother ever!” Smiling, I hug her tight, feeling the spirit of my wife close by.

Rena gave away her first child for money. The second child, she kept. He would make a good house cleaner and now she could afford one.

At the movies. You hold my hand as the actor turns into a creepy werewolf. You start to cry. First time you’ve seen your dad in makeup.

“Surrender or die!” he said, pointing the gun at me. I panic. The five year old pulls the trigger, hitting me in the head with the water.

Ernie stared at the pile of papers on his desk. What to keep? What to throw away? Why did the teacher let his kid make so much art?

The coffee stained Tim’s breath as he drank it. No longer in love with his wife, he used it to build a shield around himself.

Don’s mother moved in unexpectedly. She tagged along everywhere. She had given him the best years of her life and now she was taking his.

Levi was very proud of his mustache. He drew a sense of power from it. Now the two of them lived alone. Lana didn’t want a threesome.

“Winning is everything,” my dad always said. “As long as it’s fun,” I told my son after a dropped pass. Wish I’d heard it as a kid.

Nana rocked in her old wooden rocking chair. “Timmy, you have always been my favorite,” she said. He looked at her. “Nana, I’m Bobby.”

Allen lifted the money from Nana’s purse and hurried outside. He told himself she didn’t need it and how else could he buy her a birthday gift?

Nancy’s life felt like quicksand. No way to get out. She needed a rope or a branch or a hand. Her mother had given her an anvil.

I attached the transmitter to my daughter’s skull. As I suspected, her thoughts were not all sugar and spice and everything nice.

There could be only one winner. We faced each other. He struck first, but I was quicker. It would be my child opening the last toy tomorrow.

I listened patiently for you to make a noise, but you never did. Reluctantly, I had to admit you were right, it was a bottomless pit.

I switched on my antigravity boots in an effort to escape your overbearing ways, but you fired a harpoon of guilt that prevented my ascent.

I found you in a tent on the beach and handcuffed us together while you slept, making sure you wouldn’t abandon me the way you did Mom.

The fire felt good. It drove away the thoughts of you as it caressed my skin. I hoped there was no afterlife from which to remember you.