Stories

For Sale by Owner

There you are. Come right in. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes; it’s just a habit of mine of long standing. No you’re right on time. I like that.

This is the living room, obviously. Against this wall stood the HiFi; Ellen and I used to strum along on badminton racquets to “I Love You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.” The couch was along this wall and we used to haul one end of the coffee table up onto the couch and slide down it when our parents were still sleeping on Saturday mornings or when they were at bridge club and we could convince the babysitter that our mom and dad always let us do that. There was an end table on this side of the couch, where Mom left a cigarette burning in an ashtray one day and went to the kitchen to stir the chili or something and I took a big old drag on her Virginia Slim and fell to the floor coughing. Mom suddenly reappeared above me and asked if I’d tried to smoke…

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About the Author

Julie HartOriginally from Minnesota, Julie Hart has lived in London, Zurich, and Tokyo, and now in Brooklyn Heights. Her work can be found in Five Quarterly, Denim Skin, PANK magazine, The Rumpus and forthcoming in Floor Plan Journal.


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