Here’s an excerpt from the short story “Patti 209” from my new collection Patti 209: Fifteen Tales of the Very Near Future, available now:
I went ahead and made our cocoa, flavoring the drinks from a tiny bottle of vanilla I kept in the pocket of my robe. I loaded the cups onto a tray, covered the tray with plastic wrap to keep it dry, and headed cautiously out to the shed. We’d designed the back door to open level to the deck and pathway—no treacherous steps to contend with. That was fortunate, because in these days of short-staffing, the deck was untended and covered with slippery moss.
Oh, Rachel and I hadn’t been completely stupid. We’d understood the house. We’d understood old people. We just hadn’t quite grasped that the frail old people we were so tenderly designing it for would be us. Or that the country we lived in would wish we were dead.
When I entered the dark cottage the fragrance of potting soil and drying herbs rose up like fumes from an aged Scotch. No cleansers, no mopping solution, no stench of overcooked food and under-washed bodies. Couldn’t blame Sharelle for making this place her refuge.
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