Author: Frank J. Tassone

The dishwasher hums, and the whooshing of its water drowns out the crickets. I eat my oatmeal out of Frankie’s Frosted Flakes bowl: not another clean one remains. warm aftertasteempty pill containersbeside bottles

A new light illuminates the dashboard. I divert to Midas, in vain, as the shop opens at 7:30. I don’t have time to wait. The manual says that the light indicates my tire pressure...

I leave late. The traffic begins at the Garden State Parkway connector. The New York State Thruway, covered in fiberglass and steel, stretches into the blinding brilliance of sunrise. I arrive at work after...

The passing of faces or the flipping of pages, the same feeling permeates the last spoken words I recall from my dream: they won’t listen. The tension: tightness, shortness of breath, exhaustion from that...

Mira cries. She opens her arms and holds them out toward me. I envelop her. Feel her chest heave with the staccato beat of a carpenter’s hammering. Listen to her muffled sobs. All I...

That ticking clock. An electric hum. The gurgle of dripping coffee. Louder highway traffic. A gradual brightening of the sky above the Maple Six AM reflection… lines under my eyes Photo by Yaniv Knobel on Unsplash

I had just put together the disembodied alien when the radio sounded. American Authors sings “this is gonna be the best day of my life…” I slap the off switch. Lying in bed, in...

Another sip of hot, honey-sweetened chamomile tea. More clock ticks, and the hum of the refrigerator. Soft light from the new stainless-steel ceiling fan illuminates both the walls’ yellow eggshell finish and the golden...

Lessons prepared. Other work will wait. I enjoy the rest of a relaxing day with the family: football, phone calls, the great outdoors. Even Syfy! Still, an uneasiness arises, like the phantom prick of...

During the Giant game, a tease of a drive turns into a route. One I missed while at the Res with family. Sitting on a rock overlooking the reservoir. Lost in permutating ripples, and...

Two middle-aged women arrive from RPRC. After a brief conversation at our kitchen table, which they record, they take EMF readings throughout the house. After they finish, they say that they can’t get the...

It’s the end of the first full week, and I rest in the chaise. Mira lies next to me, her sunglasses giving her that Jackie Kennedy Onassis impression. Maple leaves in the canopy above...