THIS WEEK IN NYC 
 
 

Short Stories Archive

"Morality, like art, means that one has to draw a line somewhere."
 
 
  
THE ORANGE DRESS
Short Story and Translation 
by Daniela Albu
 
 "Grandmother, do you like my new orange dress that mother bought me for the ball?"
              Ana could not answer her. She hated that color. (Read More...)
    
 
 
 
 
SOLE SEARCHING
by Jill Di Donato 
 
After a few moments, Jason, my interviewer, released my foot and watched as I fastened my red platform sandal and returned to a cross-legged position. Leaning back in his executive ergonomic chair, it was straight to business. He pulled a checklist from a credenza and handed it tome. “If you want to make a lot of money, follow these rules.”
 
 

TO COURT OR NOT TO COURT

IN MANHATTAN

by HOLDEN WILDE

The evolution of courtship in Manhattan over the last decade is like the evolution of penmanship since the Internet became mainstream: gracious letters have been replaced by keyboard symbols, and sophisticated, nuanced romances have been synthesized to trivial, sprinting pursuits. Dating roles of sexes are becoming less distinguished and “talking points” of good old battlefield lines are no longer relevant: harems, polygamy, witch-hunting, and pre-suffrage feel so distant and quirky, and feminism so passé, that men almost wish women would say something about “glass ceilings” or “wage inequality.” We have entered the new dawn of courtship on the island where ladies can’t find gentlemen and gentlemen don’t believe in ladies.  (Read more...)

THE BADGER

by DANIELA ALBU

I resented the presence of the woman next to me. She was obviously trying to flirt with me and, in spite of the fact that she was extremely beautiful, I only felt annoyed. I was thinking so intensely of Patricia that I found this other woman boring. I knew I was still considered an attractive man, and she obviously had class, but why on Earth did I take her into my car? Anything might happen in this crazy world. She could have been a thief or a murderer. Why did I let myself be touched by the fact that she was looking so desperate with her small suitcase, by the road, in the middle of nowhere? I still had a long distance to drive, and the sky was turning almost black. I could feel the pressure from the strong wind even inside the car. Maybe she was not trying to flirt with me after all and it was only my impression. I could not help looking at her thin, delicate arms. She had gorgeous natural red hair and extremely white skin. I could guess the elegant shape of her body under the long but vaporous summer dress.  (Read more...)
 
THE KICKBACK
by Jill Di Donato 
           
There was a man in bed with my father. I saw him there clearly. He had to see me too, but didn’t move or do much else other than lie there. A current of air rustled the curtains. You can look at someone and not really notice him. This guy was all body, no face. Could have been anyone, really. All that mattered was that it wasn’t my mother in my bed with Dad.
(Read More...)