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Refugees in a Banana Republic
Literary

Refugees in a Banana Republic

Early dawn, when fog hung…

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A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor
Interview

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor

Meet Breanne Mc Ivor. She…

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Nocturnal Conductions
Humor

Nocturnal Conductions

The first time it happened,…

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The Lady of the Water
Fiction

The Lady of the Water

I’d thought Central America would…

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Never Will I Leave Home
Literary

Never Will I Leave Home

You have not seen our…

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Two Blind Men
Flash Fiction

Two Blind Men

They knew well I was…

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An Interview with Ernest Brawley
Interview

An Interview with Ernest Brawley

Ernest Brawley, a native Californian,…

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Doha, Qatar, Hamad International Airport, Tuesday, July 15th, 7:30 p.m. So here I am halfway around the world, stranded in the airport baggage claim.  No ticket to get home.  Broke.  What else could go wrong?  I was about to find out. Anza, CA.  The backstory. This whole bizarre episode all started because I was desperate for money.  Like a silent dog whistle, desperation is an imperceptible stench to most normal humans, but reeks for those humans that are attuned to it.  It draws them to me like a magnet, and the closer they get the more complicated they stick. Palm Springs, CA, Palm Springs International Airport, Monday, July 14th, 3:15 a.m. My client was nervous and wanted me at the airport three hours early virtually guaranteeing that no one would be working the counters, and that I would have to deal with those awful kiosks which I hate. …