Author: Harlan Covington

“I cancelled the plumber and the pipe delivery. You can spend the weekend without water — that’ll teach

I need a man for weekends, not for a lifetime—I’ve already made my life far too comfortable.

Dear Diary, At forty-two, marrying a well-off man is certainly jumping on the last train, Claire.

“Come on, Rusty, let’s go,” muttered Gary, adjusting a homemade lead made from an old rope.

George was certain: the renovation mattered more; his son would get over it. The dog had been taken to

Claire had been standing in the queue for forty minutes. Four people were ahead of her, six more behind.

Saturday morning promises Julia a quiet day to herself. Max left at dawn, and she has just poured her

I remember that Saturday like it was yesterday. He said it without looking at me—staring at the plate

I’ll never forget that icy December night when the phone rang, and my daughter’s sobs tore through the silence.

When I was a child, everyone kept saying that I had my father’s eyes—steel‑grey, flat as the surface