After a few weeks the VW bug I drove, which I parked at night out by the gravel road a third of a mile from my house in the woods, was burgled.
Tag: New Jersey
She sat on the bench and watched the sun drip into the ocean. Barefoot couples stood on the beach and clicked their wine glasses in a toast to another beautiful day . . .
“Tickets! Tickets, please! Thanks, miss. Change at Long Branch.”
Things happen when you’re not looking. Things that you’re not expecting . . .
In the 1950’s, I lived on The Barbary Coast—a five-block stretch that separated the “men only” taverns of Jersey City from the “women welcome” honkytonks of Union City . . .
To celebrate the release of his new novel South Haven, we’re pleased to feature author Hirsh Sawhney’s story from New Jersey Noir, edited by Joyce Carol Oates.
7:28 a.m. Geneva grabbed Roosevelt’s shoulder as he stood at his locker and turned him around. He rolled his eyes and went back to rummaging through his books. “We need to talk,” she said . . .
Here I am, ten minutes after five in the a.m., standing on Fowler Street, one of Trenton’s meanest, a shit-eating grin on my face. How did I get here? It’s like this . . .