I fell in love with Marietta that week. Marietta was beautiful, sensitive, vulnerable. Her silken hair wafted in an eternal breeze. Her diaphanous gowns clung to her supple torso. She never walked, she floated; she never talked, she murmured. Marietta was Corey, of course. That was pretty transparent, but she was a new mysterious Corey, a Corey that was at once naive and slightly naughty. Naughty Marietta -- one of ten stories celebrating love and hate, life and death, meatloaf. Other stories tell of smoking cessation through voodoo, a body in a cranberry bog, a Parisian bistro, a visit from the grim reaper, a tawdry affair and twin fortunetellers.
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March 22, 2011
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