A short story by Annalisa Mastronardi My phone lit up. Here. Where are u? She was early, as always. I closed my book and left the bench. The sun beat down that afternoon. The trees projected their tapered shadows on the scorching pavement.
annalisa mastronardi
My mother
A short story by Annalisa Mastronardi Francis, my husband, is a creature of habit. Every morning, he wakes up early and makes breakfast for everybody. Since retiring from having worked as an architect for forty years, he has helped me out with the housework: he makes our bed, clears the table, does the washing up….
Do You Still Want to Play?
A short story by Annalisa Mastronardi “Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins….
The Cake
A short story by Annalisa Mastronardi In the semi-darkness of your room hundreds of tiny dust grains danced in the straights traced by the sunlight. You slowly opened your eyes and, still half-asleep, sat up in bed. Adrenaline suddenly invaded and rushed through your body from head to toe. It was August 30th, the day…