snow. He looked back and forth from the puddle under one of his hands to the
puddle forming under the other.
His hands ought to be full of cash, not melting snow.
“I was stiffed,”
Maebh threw their
only table lamp at him. She was a poor pitch. The lamp arched past Oison’s head
and crumpled on the floor.
“Guess we’ll have to rely on the overhead, now. Anyway, Lovie, I bought you
these. Fought off the crowds at the Neasa’s Chocolate Emporium to procure them
for you.” He proffered a slightly crushed box of candy.
attempted to assault her beloved with a framed picture of the two of them
standing at the seashore. Ordinarily, that memento stood on their reading table
atop of a doily.
Oison was slow to
duck. The photo hit him on the edge of his forehead. A slow bleed started.
“Tosh and assorted
relative nonsense,” his partner said. Her words slowly bubbled to her lips,
like a poison nearing the completion of its fermentation process.
slumped toward his stomach. He slid to sit on their threadbare sofa. It was a
two-seater and he had long ago promised Maebh a three.
One eye nearly
swollen shut, he watched his woman pick up the windowsill pot containing the
small cacti that she constantly overwatered. That prickly vegetable was yellow
where it should have been green and brown where yellow would not have been a
Maebh winged the
pot at her much-loved man. She missed, catching a knickknack from their
Oison shook his
head. They were averaging three lost figurines per month.
ya to lose it.” suggested Oison’s mate.
the decorative plate that she had removed from the wall. It was a souvenir of
the queen’s Diamond Jubilee. They might be ex-pats, but they still revered
certain things. “Now you’re telling the truth. So while you’re at it, where’s
“I drank it away
at Mac Lochlainns.”
made herself comfortable on the sofa and then wiggled over to Oison’s lap.
“Lying doesn’t suit you. I guess you miss home, too.” Although she still
clutched the plate in her left hand, with her right hand, she rubbed her dear
one’s face, enjoying the contact her fingers made with his beard, his nose, and
carefully traced the surface of his forehead box, too. “Your green light’s so
“As sexy as Doni
“Ain’t no such man
in my life.”
Sighing and then
sighing once more, Oison swiftly grabbed the plate from his girl. In that
single gesture he likewise smashed it over her head.
She became limp.
Her eyes shuttered.
Oison tsk-tsked as
he fingered her face and the bump on her brow. “Stupid
broad! Your light’s red!”
KJ Hannah Greenberg captures the world in words and images. Her latest photography
portfolio is 20/20: KJ Hannah Greenberg Eye on Israel. Her most recent poetry collection is Mothers Ought to Utter Only Niceties (Unbound CONTENT, 2017). Her
most recent fiction collection is the omnibus, Concatenation (Bards & Sages Publishing, 2018).
Recently, Hannah’s seventh short story collection was published
by Bards and Sages Publishing.
The publisher writes: "Bards and Sages
Publishing is pleased to bring readers Walnut Street, our seventh short story collection by KJ Hannah Greenberg.
Greenberg’s flair for the peculiar and eclectic shines through in this collection of over fifty flash and short fiction
works featuring anthropomorphic starship pilots, angsty authors, strange neighbors, and more."
Walnut Street is available on Amazon:
Volumes One through Five of the KJ Hannah
Greenberg Short Story Collection at 50% off the list in an exclusive bundle only at