For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form


Alice Munro


She had been too preoccupied, until now, to notice that he spoke with an accent. What was it? It was not French or Dutch–the two accents that she thought she could recognized, French from school and Dutch from the immigrants who were sometimes patients in the hospital. And the other thing she took note of was that he spoke of her enjoying the train ride. Nobody she knew would speak of a grown person doing that. But he spoke of it as being quite natural and necessary.

At the corner of Downie Street, he said, “We turn this way. My house is just along here.”

He said house, when he had said shop before. But it could be that his shop was in his house.

We read it in Runaway.