Writing A Short Story Is Like Having

My Memory Loves You… It Asks About You All The Time.

The Viennese Wash Everything. Where Else In The World Does The Government Hire Public Servants To Wash Public Telephone Booths And The Glass Over Traffic Lights? Every Time I See Someone Doing These Things, I Smile Like A Child.

Sometimes It Is The Smallest Thing That Saves Us: The Weather Growing Cold, A Child's Smile, And A Cup Of Excellent Coffee.

Some People Are Like Blue Jeans- The Older And More Beat Up They Get, The Better They Look.

At The End Of Their Relationship She Asked If They Could Still Remain Friends. His Face Stayed Expressionless Until He Said "no. Because We Put Friends In Boxes. You See Them Once In A While, Or Even A Lot, But Still They Have Their Box In Your Life, Their Specific Place. Their *category.* That's One Of The Great Things About Being Someone's Love-- You Have No Box In Their Life Because You're Part Of All Their Boxes. You're Their Friend, Their Lover, Their Confidante-- All Those Things. I Don't Want To Be Put In One Of Your Boxes And I Don't Want To Shrink You To Fit Into One Of Mine.