by Robert P. Barsanti I woke up to dubstep. The Bulgarian Power Team who tend the realtor’s houses on our street had keyed up some Central European Trap Music to blast over the sound of the riding mowers and their earphones. They had pulled into one of the empty gravel […]
Tag: Robert P. Barsanti
Box of Tears
by Robert P. Barsanti My son came back from April vacation with a date for prom. This fact rose up from the sea and flopped up onto the beach in front of me. I looked at this heaving thing and, as one does, accepted that this is what must be. […]
The Currency of Memories
by Robert P. Barsanti On a bright Saturday in early May, one of the young men and I bought a dress shirt at Murray’s. Sometime in the winter, or at some other time when I wasn’t looking, the men’s section of the old store had been rearranged. It hadn’t been […]
The Caretaker
by Robert P. Barsanti I imagine that they had come into some money. Not an amount of money that would require lawyers, stock brokers, and accountants. But some money. Enough. So they rented a house in Tom Nevers with four bed rooms, three baths, and a distant water view. They […]
Best of Luck
• by Robert P. Barsanti • July and August depend a great deal on what you see and what you choose to ignore. The houseguests come in those months, predominantly, and we live a parallel life to theirs. All of them are great friends from other times: We have heard […]