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Diane Williams


I thought he had a narrower head on him. He stays with me.

He is similar to a private assistant.  Has his comb, brush, and his dressing robe.  It should be a time for an escape of passion, yet he said he’d been with Mrs. S.

She was next to me, all over my side of the question, and I told her, “You’re like an animal!”

Although, nobody worries about her manners, they know they’re good.

I turned down the lights.  Wrapped up the pieces, put them in the refrigerator.  Made a bank deposit.  Spent a quiet evening. Completed tax reports after dinner and left for work about 7:00 A.M. Drove quite a distance.  Found a dog.  Worked until 4:00 P.M. I was running around.  The storm delayed me and I tried pushing it, but it shook.

Diane Williams's most recent book of fiction is It Was Like My Trying to Have a Tender-Hearted Nature.  She is the editor of the literary annual NOON and a three-time recipient of The Pushcart Prize.

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