Romancing Coney Island

Romancing Coney Island

My romance with Coney Island, when I was about five years-old or so, began at grandma’s house when the iceman delivered ice on his cart, pulled by a horse. He drove down the street hollering, “Ice for sale, ice for sale.” Looked like to me, those huge tongs...

HOME ON THE RANGE

Leila’s back hurt, her insides were rolling, the sun blinded her. The irony was her mother had insisted she learn to ride the way a woman would be expected to. But nothing she knew was useful. She was about to retch again. “Tom, Tom, wait up,” she called. “I...

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