My heart is really pounding,” I said.”That’s how you know you’re having fun,” Margo said.

Physical space between us evaporates. We play the broken strings of our instruments one last time

Jesus, kid, you’re almost a detective. All you need now is a gun, a gut, and three ex-wives.

As we walked, I kept taking glances at her through the crowd, quick snapshots: a photographic series entitled Perfection Stands Still While Mortals Walk Past.

And even though it was ridiculously childish, in the end I had to call myself a faggot, which really annoyed me, because 1. I don’t think that word should ever be used by anyone, let...

To find Margo Roth Spiegelman, you must become Margo Roth Spiegelman. And I had done many of the things she might have done: I had engineered a most unlikely prom coupling. I had quieted the...