Authentic Roads

I was eight years old the winter my father hid a whole spiral-cut ham inside a duffel bag and wouldn'

I run the register two lanes down from drive-through at the McDonald's on Youree Drive, the one

My name's Carol Whitfield, and I've been the super for a building on Maple Terrace, in Rochester

Marianne Kessler's heart stopped on a Wednesday at six-thirty in the evening, the moment the ambulance

I work the front counter at the Bright Minds Learning Center here in Portland. Nineteen years this coming

My name is Donna Kowalczyk, I'm sixty-one, and I've worked the front desk at the Blue Water

She called at midnight. I was staring at the ceiling, running through that argument again in my head

The dog started barking first — that was how Marlene Kessler always knew someone had pulled into the

Nora Vance had her name on three posters outside a Denver multiplex the winter she turned twenty-nine.

Emma found the envelope in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, under a stack of expired coupons and