TY - JOUR
AU - Hilles, Rick
AB -  FLASHLIGHT STORIES/ Rick Hules I. The women in this family play pinochle, smoke, toss back salted nuts with the dregs of their drinks. Ethel, Gladys, Esther, Vesta, Effie--names you can't imagine anyone being named again. One says Richard, would you like more to eat? The men are out back still taking turns grinding the ice-cream maker, their biceps swollen and warm from crushing the ice to slush. One by one, even the laughter of these ghosts becomes less audible. You want to ask them in, to tell them stories by flashlight to make them want to stay. You could begin with anything, anything, the smallest thing that ever made you want your life. II. The air after rain. The sounds of lovers making love, tea, toast, and nevertheless going about their days. It has something to do with gravity. One moment you're walking at the edge of a street, when your brother is taken from your hand. You go your whole life thinking, Why him and not me? You wake and are no longer young. Traffic is still insidious, but now the hours come apart like soft-boiled eggs. The Missouri Review · 119 You spoon the round bellies 
TI - Flashlight Stories
JF - The Missouri Review
DA - 2000-10-05
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/university-of-missouri/flashlight-stories-KTwQTuAc1h
SP - 119
EP - 125
VL - 23
IS - 1
DP - DeepDyve
ER -