The song was not hers. The song had been written long ago, its words and its notes arranged even before she was born. Its creators had birthed it from a spark of inspiration, and it had grown with many voices since. But for this short moment, the song and all it meant belonged to her. Its desire to take wing, to embrace change. And - most poignant for her - an underlying fear that opportunity not taken was opportunity los...

I once had an ex give me road head on the LA freeway coming back from Napa in 1982. I’d brag that I didn’t even have to pay for it, but it turns out this girl drank Dom Perignon like it was Perrier, so in no way was that true. Worst blowjob I ever got in my life, too. But it’s one off the bucket list. It also gives me a nice place to go when I’m stuck in a traffic jam on Lakeshore – and there’s always fucking traffic on L...

NOW The aphorism that “you never forget your first” was one that had always bothered Bertie. For one, which ‘first’ was it referring to? His first crush would have been on a classmate in grade school, but which classmate or even which year had been lost to his memory. His first kiss was a dare in junior high. The kid who dared him was named Ken Jakes, but the girl in question? He couldn’t remember her, either. Even the de...

Rachel was surprised by the call down to the mailroom. Typically when she’d ordered a package, she’d have been prepared for its arrival by at least three days of e-mail updates. It was bizarre for one to appear without notice. There was no international label, so it had to be local – very local, given that there was no return address either, just her name and the address she shared with Bertie. The size and shape of it su...