Sunday finery
grandmothers and gardenias
whiskey in their tea
About the Creator
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More stories from Tina D. Lopez and writers in Poets and other communities.
December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waiters’ lives—like Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steve’s dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
By Tina D. LopezExclusive • 2 months ago
Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Booyah!
Dear Professor Donkeldong, I would like to formally apologize. Last night I snuck into your office. I sat in your chair and poured myself three fingers of Scotch from the bottle you’ve got stashed in the top desk drawer. Then I helped myself to your private library.
By Leslie Writesa day ago in Humor
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