Tailored 38 Special


When I turn to page 38 of The Art
of the Steal by Frank Abagnale, I see “North
Carolina.” I think Highlands, the town where
my Aunt Mercedes lives. She drives a Nissan.
We haven’t spoken since my dad passed away
and that’s my fault, mostly. I’m awkward, all right?
James Joyce? What do you have to say about it?
Ulysses: “Naturalich. Put there for you. … More Tailored 38 Special

Eyes Ahead

Cafe Du Monde

The silver Zippo in Ken Anderson’s left hand had belonged to his father and clicked as he flipped it across his wedding ring. He was sitting in a cold, metal chair outside a cafe in New Orleans, a stone’s throw from the bustle of Bourbon Street. It was mid-November. The wind was pushing red and gold leaves down the cracked sidewalks. People were strolling past, chattering about the Saints recent loss. … More Eyes Ahead