1. Gone with the Mind

Each of us faces the terrifying ravages of aging: Where did I put my keys? Have I brushed my teeth? Is today Tuesday? Why did I come into this room? Do I know you? Is despair the inevitable outcome waiting for all of us, or is it possible that there is joy to be found in a world without all those pesky memories?

Alphonse Montague is a footman who stands firmly loyal to the king even as he discovers disturbingly questionable kitchen behaviors in preparation for a state dinner. Is his majesty aware of the ingredients in the bouillabaisse? Is there a plot afoot? Should he find a way to warn the foreign dignitaries? Or is the king himself in danger? Where does Alphonse’s obligation lie? Should he stand silently by, as he has always done, or is it time for him to reveal what he knows and risk creating havoc in the palace?

3. The Fault in Our Stairs

Old-fashioned charm and personality: those were the promises in the brochure, and the online photos of our new home certainly confirmed our hopes. Eager as we were to get away from the sleek minimalist décor of our city condo and back to the homey setting of a kinder, gentler time, we might have failed our due diligence in making the purchase. Taking occupancy has brought to light chilling elements we could not have anticipated in our wildest dreams.

The unexpected bequest was every woman’s dream: an opportunity for independence and pastoral peace. Bridgette adored cows. Cows are placid, calming, and give endlessly. She had loved them since she was a little girl, rolling down the car window to moo at every cow the family drove past. As a child she had dreamed of having her very own cow, Beulah or Elsie, much as her friends dreamed of having a puppy or a horse. And now her dream has come true.  She had not realized that cows have needs just as relentless and demanding as her own.

I certainly never intended to weaponize the living room décor. But his insistence on keeping that hideous recliner drove me to action. Fine, I said. Two can play at that game, mister. I started with the carpeting. I knew he hated the businesslike gray, as tightly woven as a mat. I don’t actually like it myself, but I have a point to prove. I have to admit that carpet is the opposite of welcoming. No one entering that room takes off their shoes. Then I came home one afternoon to find him painting the walls. The ghastly green matched his beloved recliner. And it didn’t stop there. If only I had realized the inevitable outcome of my foolish desire for revenge!