Fiction

To this day, nearly three decades later, the whole thing still kind of bothers me. It shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal, but it did. It just did.

Frank drove to the Quogue post office to pick up the mail and returned with four new men’s size medium jackets that may or may not be leather. The man selling the jackets had approached him as he was about to toss his bills and textile recycling magazines into his car — the silver Lexus two-seater convertible that made him appear wealthier than he...
The Star welcomes submissions of essays for its “Guestwords” column, of between 700 and 1,200 words, and of short fiction or memoir, of up to 2,000 words. Please send submissions for review by email, in text or Word format, to...

The Hampton Jitney bus door opened and people began to board. Leroy Fixx positioned himself six or seven bodies behind a girl he’d already noticed. She was pretty, with short brown hair, and wore beige chinos with a black tank top that featured her chest. Leroy couldn’t take his eyes off her.

When the body of a beautiful young woman is found washed up against a jetty by an early morning surfer, and then promptly disappears after a photo of her goes viral, former New York journalist Paul Sandis stumbles into a career-making story.

I propped myself with the pillows from both beds in my neighbor’s guest room, my thumbs blazing across the phone as text after text came flying in. I was messaging frantically with the woman in Amagansett who told me they were going.

My wife is young and lovely. I am old and not. In a bathing suit, she resembles a raven-haired goddess, a ravishing nymph; in similar garb, I resemble, at best, a walrus. So it is perhaps not surprising that the beach house was her idea. The real truth is I do not care much for beach living, but my wife, she does, and I care for her greatly. Over...

Judge Milton Black has been found murdered in the federal courthouse, and assistant F.B.I. director Grace Loomey and federal marshal Henry Rogers are on the case.

Promptly at 10 a.m., facing a crowded federal courtroom, the bailiff signaled for silence: “Hear ye, hear ye, court is now in session. All persons having business before the court, draw near and ye shall be heard. All rise. The Honorable Milton Black presiding. God save these United States and this honorable court.”

When I was 13 I went to Woodstock. Not just the town but the actual festival that took place in Bethel in 1969. I wasn’t alone. My mother and older sister were there while my father and younger sister stayed home on Long Island.

Since we were no longer co-workers, Seymour called and asked me out. “Anywhere you’d like.” He wanted me to do the picking and planning — he’d pay. Fine.

Here and there I like to detox from talking, which means I stop listening to what anyone says. When that happens I like to reminisce.

Some time ago I bought a new comforter for my bed — a blue cloverleaf design tinged with gold-green foliage against a red background. After years of sleeping under a down comforter tucked inside a white duvet, the new comforter, to my delight, woke up the room. It came reversible, too , in matching red, green, and gold stripes with two shams and a...