Shore Lunch

She sat up abruptly in the passenger seat. “Where are we?” “Missouri somewhere,” he said. She plucked off her sunglasses.  The evening was overcast.  She squinted against its gray light and yawned. “Missouri?” “Yep.” “Why didn’t you wake me up when we crossed the river?” “Sorry.” “Well why didn’t you?” “I forgot.  I had the radio on.” “I wanted a …

The Love Story of Henry Van Pennyshaw

He was born the instant she christened him. Henry Van Pennyshaw. The name his girl had chosen for him. Her father used a moist hand towel to wipe the strands of orange pulp from around his eye holes, his nose, his widely grinning mouth. “Henry Van Pennyshaw!” Ivy said again, stepping back to admire him, the serrated carving knife with …