William Merritt Chase, Portrait of a Lady
photo by Bob Richardson
original short fiction by Lee Ann Stiff
“You haven’t heard of kayak angst?” my brother asked me, his stormy gray eyes squinting narrow against the sun. He always took pleasure in discovering things I didn’t know about, like the simple joy one experiences finding money on a sidewalk. “No, what is it, an overwhelming urge to go out in a kayak?” I asked snottily, barely dividing my attention from people walking past, as I was trying to defuse my foul mood, ignited by a recent argument over who was going to keep the scrimshawed whale’s tooth that had belonged to our father. I shifted away from the gum stuck on the bench between us. It was a sticky mess, with all of its sweetness gone.
William Merritt Chase, Over the Hills and Far Away
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.