Author Archives: A.M. Herrera

You get up every day, cram into your shoes and remember to put one foot in front of the other. You will repeat these steps over and over again until the day you die. No one will call you a … Continue reading →

I feel languorous and elegant. I raise my arms above my head and arch my back, shaking the sleep off my shoulders. The morning light filters through the closed wooden blinds, and the deep yellow walls of our bedroom glow … Continue reading →

I’ve arranged myself on the bed, my hair fanned out on the pillowcase, the sheets pulled up to my waist, and a hardcover book propped up on my chest. Felix gets in bed, and I can smell his bathed skin, … Continue reading →

I wave goodbye to the babysitter, Nora, who assures me as she backs out of the driveway that my son, Daniel, is in the middle of a nice long nap. I close the front door and dash to the bathroom. … Continue reading →

  I check and double check the front door. Keys in hand. Backpack dangles from one shoulder. Morning paper clenched between my teeth. Nicole, my nine-year-old daughter, waits by the car holding my coffee mug. I unlock the car. Climb … Continue reading →

  Chapter 1: Rather Darkness Visible   Once upon a time I was an object of desire. But I am slipping. My hand moves across the sheets. Fingertips trace the boundary of Felix’s body, starting at his shoulder, moving down his … Continue reading →