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—Kathy, please prepare the cabin for takeoff.
—You already said that, sir. Sir? Brian?
—Is the cabin prepared?
—We’re airborne, sir.
—I’d like to hear that from Troy, please.
—We’re airborne, sir.
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—Do you plan to tell the doctor all my secrets?
—She won’t be testing for secrets.
—Suppose I tell her yours?
—You don’t remember them.
—That’s not fair.
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The kids are playing Doctor in the sandbox. Our first concern is what they use for instruments but we let them have their space. We see them in profile from the house earnest and still. Their lips are moving.
—Where does it hurt?
—Everywhere. I suffer from a general malaise. Read the rest of this entry »

—What does she look like?
—I don’t know who you mean.
—The slut your father’s sleeping with.
—Oh. There’s no such person.

I began to follow her then, in anticipation. Read the rest of this entry »

My daughter Magda is four years old and a frightening specimen. I’m running out of preschools that will take her. “We can’t tell when she’s kidding,” they tell me, “It scares us.” I know: you need an example. Read the rest of this entry »

—It’s hard to look at a river and see the river.
—What do we see then, if not the river?
—We see time. We see change.
—We don’t see water flowing by?
—We see water, but only as a metaphor for time.
—I think I see water. Read the rest of this entry »

We don’t do it for the fish. We come out when our wives have had enough of us, reliably once a month, sometimes more often if we poke the right buttons. Read the rest of this entry »

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Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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