Author: Frank J. Tassone

The aroma of her nail polish is so strong that I smell it from the lounge chair. And her hair? Straight and silky. All to visit our dentist—her former employer. She says no. Do...

I don’t know my first memory of Mom. I recall the photo and home movies: beehive hair, white mini. Was it when I cut my hand on that protruding stone at the daycare center?...

Mom said something. “Ok,” I answered, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room. Then one more step toward the door.   CRASH!   Shards of shattered glass rained down on the...

Flashing red lights. Beeping horns. Bells. I pull the bar; the helicopter car rises. I push the bar; the car drops. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Around, around, around my...

The sky-blue Teddy bear towered over me. Charcoal eyes and nose, friendly smile: my parents nestled me in its arms. Mom told me how much I loved that Teddy. One day, the window of...

breakfast outside a neighbor on his cellphone across the street Frankie’s last tears as we pull away from “home” The boat pulls away from the bayside dock. Our guide points out the history of...

Troubled by dreams. One, a last meeting with Christine. Awoke regretting that I missed the Last Voyage of Columbus. Missed seeing those friends one last time. All to save $100—and see my son and...

Frankie and Mira slowly encase me in hot sand. The boobs and mermaid tail come after. Mira snaps at least three photos guaranteed to humiliate should she ever post them. July sun     my...