WINNER—2025 THE BLUE RIDGE BLUE NIB AWARD
WINNER—2025 VIRGINIA GOLDEN NIB AWARD
Love stories as raw, complex, full, and surprising as love itself.
What would you do for love?
Follow a soul across time?
Die for your country?
Stay in a life that's slowly destroying you?
In this rich and wide-ranging collection, love is explored in all its complexity — how it breaks us, redeems us, haunts us, and transforms us. These are stories about connection to family, to strangers, to communities, to ourselves — and what happens when those connections are severed, tested, discovered too late… or right on time.
Fiction and nonfiction woven together, each piece illuminates a different facet of our most human and powerful experiences. Stories end. Love never does.
Sometimes love destroys us. Sometimes it saves. But it always leaves its mark.
WINNER—2025 THE BLUE RIDGE BLUE NIB AWARD
WINNER—2025 VIRGINIA GOLDEN NIB AWARD
Love stories as raw, complex, full, and surprising as love itself.
What would you do for love?
Follow a soul across time?
Die for your country?
Stay in a life that's slowly destroying you?
In this rich and wide-ranging collection, love is explored in all its complexity — how it breaks us, redeems us, haunts us, and transforms us. These are stories about connection to family, to strangers, to communities, to ourselves — and what happens when those connections are severed, tested, discovered too late… or right on time.
Fiction and nonfiction woven together, each piece illuminates a different facet of our most human and powerful experiences. Stories end. Love never does.
Sometimes love destroys us. Sometimes it saves. But it always leaves its mark.
More people than usual were streaming in and out of Tronka’s Pet Shop this morning. A large handwritten banner flapped in the breeze: “Free Adoption.” The curious, always interested in something free, stepped inside and emerged with bags of goldfish, cats of all ages, or dogs on leashes. Only the children seemed excited about their finds—adults harbored morose faces, knowing they would inherit the care after the novelty wore off.
Aiden and Tiffany Chapman pulled their red Mercedes convertible into the busy parking lot, the sun bouncing off its hood. The wife initially balked at her husband’s nearly quarter-million-dollar indulgence but relented when he took her for a spin with the top down.
The couple had hoped to grab a bite to eat at the new high-end bistro that had received rave reviews. Aiden had hoped to cheer his wife after their third IVF attempt. Despite the doctor’s optimism, injectable hormones, fertile eggs, and a careful regimen, her body rejected the implanted embryo.
“I’ve heard great things about this restaurant,” he said, scanning the parking lot. “But they could have chosen a better location than this,” he scowled.
“It’s a popular place,” she replied.
Knowing he wouldn’t win the argument, he changed the subject. “I’m up for some steak and eggs. How ‘bout you, Tiffany?”
She responded with a scrunched face. “Let me start with a cup of coffee.” The constant movement of people in and out of Tronka’s caught her attention. “I wonder what they’re offering for adoption?”
Now it was Aiden’s turn to scrunch his face. “Nothing we want…or need.”
“Come on, Aiden. Please?” she said, offering him the smile that always succeeded.
“Can’t we eat first?” he asked, already taking steps toward the pet shop. Aiden knew when to concede. It’s how their fifteen-year marriage worked: negotiation, give-and-take, and letting his wife win a bit more than he does. It was worth it. He had loved her since high school, and if not for Tiffany’s support and love, Aiden wasn’t sure he’d be the CEO of his tech company.
“Gosh, look at all those people,” she said, taking his hand, pulling him a bit.
Aiden opened the door and caught a whiff of something musky, like wood shavings.
“Oh, thanks,” a man said, allowing his gaggle of kids to walk past, each holding a bag or box with their treasure.
Aiden gave the man a sympathetic smile.
The man returned a shrug.
“What’s going on?” Tiffany asked a woman standing in an aisle.
“Store’s closing. They’ve got to get rid of their inventory.”
“Oh, that’s so sad,” she returned, frowning.
“What are you looking for?” the woman continued.
“Nothing,” Aiden chimed in.
Tiffany smiled. “Are there any dogs left?”
The woman pointed to the back of the shop. “I think so. But all the puppies are gone.”
“Good,” Aiden said, thinking about the last misadventure with a dog that chewed his five-hundred-dollar Gucci loafers.
“Thank you,” Tiffany said to the woman as she started walking toward the back.
Two small children, tunnel-visioned, collided with her as they carried a box containing a turtle.
“Say sorry,” their mother admonished.
“Sorry,” they said in unison, their voices trailing off as they made for the exit.
The open-mouth shelves had been stripped bare, exposing dust balls and scrap paper.
Tiffany walked past a pen cordoning off one dog. She could tell by its coat that it was a senior animal as it rested on its side. “Hey,” she called, outstretching a hand.
When the animal turned its head, one eyelid was fused shut; the other was cloudy with age.
Aiden caught up with her. “Uh, that would be a no.” He nodded his head in the dog’s direction. “It’s not long for this world.”
“Shush,” she whispered. “Poor thing.”
Just then, a man with a rich olive complexion, shorter than Tiffany, stood by the couple. “Can I help you?” There was a lilt to his voice.
Tiffany guessed he was of Indian descent. “Hello. Are you the shop owner?”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes misting. “At least I was.”
“Sorry. Are you going out of business?” she asked, almost wanting to hold the man’s hands.
“I have to get rid of everything because my father just died, and my mother is alone in India. I’m an only child.” He shook his head. “Sorry, you don’t need to hear my life story.” His lips pressed together as he dipped his head. “Can I help you? Are you looking for a pet?”
“No,” Aiden chirped.
Tiffany caught his eye. “We’re looking.”
“Please have a look,” the man said, waving his arm.
“What happens to the pets that are not taken?”
Aiden stepped closer, afraid his wife would offer to take them.
“Based on what animals are left, I’ll try to give them to another pet store.”
“I see,” she mumbled, looking up at the cages that once held birds. Tiffany walked to the end of the aisle and glanced through a plate-glass window. The sign showed that the spot once held hamsters and guinea pigs.
She was about to walk back when she felt something tugging on her hair. Instinctively, she reached up and caught a tiny, furred hand. “Hey!” she shouted.
Above her was a cage larger than the bird cages. She stared inside, catching a pair of dark, curious eyes. The animal was no bigger than a house cat, with wiry limbs and a combination of brown and cream fur. Its face seemed covered in a pale mask, giving it a startling human look. The long fingers of its hand extended through the bars, attempting once more to pull her hair.
“Hey, you, naughty boy,” Tiffany giggled.
“Blinky,” the owner said, stretching out the name. “Be nice,” he said, waving a finger in admonishment.
“Blinky?” she asked. “Is he a capuchin monkey?”
Aiden scurried alongside her, putting his hands around her waist as if to move her along.
She rested her hands on his, a message to stop.
“He is,” the owner confirmed. “And he is a handful,” he laughed, “but I’ve come to love this guy.” He reached into the cage and pulled the monkey out.
Based on the animal’s reaction in placing its arms around the man’s neck, it appeared the feeling was mutual.
“How’d you come to have him?” she asked.
“A couple from Vegas thought it would be fun. You know, dress him up, play with him. But capuchins aren’t like cats and dogs. They’re mischievous and will get into everything if you allow them. They brought him here because they couldn’t handle him.” He pointed to the cage. “Blinky is a master escape artist and smart as a whip.” He tickled under the monkey’s chin. “Aren’t you?”
The monkey reciprocated the tickle and grinned.
“He’s darling,” Tiffany cooed.
Aiden warned, “Honey.”
“Would you like to hold him?” the man asked, extending the monkey in her direction.
“No!” Aiden barked, raising his hand haltingly. “No, thanks.” His tone softened.
Tiffany stepped away from him and lifted her arms toward the monkey.
Blinky extended his arms, accepting her welcome, placed his arms around her neck, and nuzzled against her cheek.
“Look,” she said with amazement.
“Give him back now, Tiffany.” Aiden’s voice rang with alarm.
“He likes you,” the store owner encouraged.
“Give him back, Honey.”
“Are you taking him to India?” she asked, still cuddling the creature.
The owner shook his head. “Impossible. Too much red tape and expense.”
Her eyes widened. “Then what?”
The owner’s eyes lingered on the floor. “Spend a few minutes with Blinky,” he encouraged, patting her back and stepping away.
Blinky’s whip-thin tail curled and uncurled like a question mark, steadying its little body against hers. He studied her face like a child taking in a new toy. His bright eyes covered the contours of her nose, lips, and eyes. He placed his cheek against hers.
“Oh, you’re so cute,” she gushed.
Aiden stepped closer, arms outstretched to take the monkey and return it to its cage.
Blinky opened his mouth wide, exposing menacing incisors, and hissed, causing Aiden to jump back.
“He was going to bite me!” he yelled.
“You scared him,” she said, nuzzling the monkey closer.
The tiny furry hand slid down her blouse and grabbed a privileged handful. A grin spread across his face as he clutched what didn’t belong to him.
Her husband snatched its wrist so quickly and hard that he nearly snapped it.
Blinky shrieked.
“Aiden!” the woman protested. “For heaven’s sake, you’re going to hurt the poor thing,” she said, clasping the capuchin monkey even closer to her. “It’s a baby!”
He sniffed. “It’s not a baby, Tiffany. It’s a monkey.” Aiden’s lower lip stuck out in a pouting gesture as he crossed his arms. He was thirty but acting five. “We’re not bringing that thing home!” He stomped his foot for good measure.
“Didn’t you hear the shopkeeper, Aiden? If a suitable home can’t be found, Blinky will be sent away,” she whispered, imagining a lab.
“Well, good. They should release that animal back into the wild in South America. My God, I bet it has ticks or fleas or something.” His nostrils widened. “Maybe disease.”
Tiffany placed her hands over the monkey’s ears, as if believing her husband’s comments would hurt its feelings. “Please shush,” she whispered, stroking its back, mindful of the tiny diaper.
“Let someone with children and other pets take it home.” He stared at the monkey, his lip curling. “We don’t even have fish, for Christ’s sake. Think of our lifestyle!”
The shop owner returned. “He’s a wonderful companion, and it seems like the two of you have hit it off.”
“Isn’t it illegal to own a monkey?” Aiden asked, hoping for a way out.
“Actually, here in Nevada, you can keep a monkey. He needs the right home with someone who understands what they’re taking on and who will love him.” He reached for Blinky to return him, but the monkey stayed with Tiffany.
“You see, Babe. Even this guy doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to take him.” Aiden smiled, nodding in gratitude to the man.
“To the contrary, it seems your wife and Blinky are fast forming a bond,” he said, touching the monkey’s back. “Would you like to go home with this nice lady?” he asked, avoiding Aiden’s eyes.
Blinky squeezed Tiffany’s shoulders tighter and bobbed his head up and down.
“Oh, my God! Did he just nod yes?” Tiffany’s mouth dropped open.
The owner smiled. “No, he’s excited.”
Without conferring with Aiden, she announced, “We’ll take him.”
Now it was the husband’s turn to stand open-mouthed. “Wait…no…wait. We can’t take him. I bet our HOA prohibits animals like this,” he protested, trying to find a logical reason to decline the monkey.
“As long as you keep Blinky under control, he won’t be a bother,” the owner retorted, recognizing he had an out now.
“We’d like to give you something for him,” Tiffany said, elbowing Aiden as she held the monkey.
“Wha…,” he whined, knowing the monkey was coming home with him. He didn’t want to pay for the torture.
“Do you accept credit cards?” she asked.
The owner shrugged. “Sorry. Everything’s been shut down.”
“Please give him your cash, Aiden,” she whispered, touching his arm.
He pulled out his wallet and saw a wad of crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills. He fingered two and caught his wife’s reproachful stare.
Through some silent gesturing, he kept touching the bills, one after the next, waiting for her approval. When he reached the last bill, she nodded. Blinky would cost them $1,000.
Aiden handed the money to the owner.
“Thank you. This is so generous of you. Thank you.” He gave a slight bow. “Here, let me help you bring the cage to your vehicle.”
Realizing the metal cage would rub against the buttery leather seats, Aiden asked, “Do you have a cloth or something to protect the bottom?”
The owner pulled out a dusty blanket and handed it to him while he jockeyed Blinky’s cage and maneuvered it through the doorway.
“Which one is yours?” he asked, looking around the cage he was holding.
“The Mercedes,” Tiffany replied, holding Blinky, whose long fingers were exploring her ear.
“Oh my gosh, I didn’t ask about his diet or potty training, or…” Her voice trailed off as she now realized the enormity of responsibilities for her new ward.
“Capuchins are omnivores with quite varied diets! He eats fruits, leaves, nuts, and bugs. Blinky loves insects. Mealworms, grasshoppers, crickets. I’ll give you some kibble he likes.” He turned his back. “The window for potty training most likely has passed,” he murmured.
Aiden, ahead of the group, laid the blanket across the back seat and made a soft, muttering comment about his leather seat.
The shop owner placed the cage, shoving it this way and that, squeezing it in.
Aiden squirmed, turning beet red, and running his fingers through his hair. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling, picturing the seats getting ripped to shreds.
“Here you go,” the shopkeeper said, handing Tiffany the bag of kibble. “Best of luck,” he said, shaking their hands. “Be a pleasant fellow, Blinky.” He patted the monkey’s back.
Tiffany placed Blinky in his cage, swiping his cheek with her index finger. “Don’t be frightened. We’re almost home.”
“I’m starving,” Aiden groused.
“Well, we’ll have to visit the bistro another time, Aiden. Let’s get him home and settled in.”
He stepped on the gas, and the car sped forward as he pulled up the road toward home.
A chattering sound came from the back of the car, and Aiden glanced in the rearview mirror only to see Blinky’s face plastered against his cage, doing something to the seat. “Geezus! I think he’s eating the leather.”
Alarmed that the tiny animal might get sick, Tiffany released her seatbelt and clambered toward the back. “Oh, it’s okay, Aiden. He’s only licking it.” She smiled, relieved.
Blinky reached his hand through the bars and wrapped it around Tiffany’s finger.
“It’s okay, Buddy,” she soothed.
Aiden, meanwhile, had visions of gooey saliva sticking to the soft leather and ruining it. “Well, tell him to stop! He’ll ruin the leather.”
“Don’t shout, Aiden. You’ll scare him.”
As if to prove her point, a long, drawn-out pfffrrrr sound vibrated from the back, quickly accompanied by a gaseous odor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he huffed, cranking his head toward the back.
“Uh-oh,” she gasped. “We don’t have any diapers. Please stop at Felter’s pharmacy so I can pick up some things.”
“Babe. I think this was a bad idea,” he said, reaching for her hand.
Tiffany took Aiden’s hand and patted it with her other hand. “We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
He parked the car in a space in front of Felter’s as Tiffany sprinted inside the store. “Please hurry,” he said, squeezing his nostrils closed and fighting back gags.
His wife disappeared inside the store, nearly skipping and on a mission.
When she was out of earshot, Aiden turned in his seat, his eyebrows creasing. “Listen, you. Don’t get too comfy. You’re not staying. You get me?”
The monkey cocked its head as if fully attentive to the man and scratched the side of its chin.
He stuck his hand through the bars, and Aiden smacked it.
“You’re going to the zoo, Buddy. I’m just telling you.”
Tiffany walked back and opened the car door. “You two getting acquainted?”
Aiden smiled.
“Maybe I should change him before we head home.”
The thought of the stinky diaper in the back of his beautiful car almost made him gag again. “No, we’re almost home. You can change him outside or something.”
“Don’t be silly,” she laughed.
He wasn’t, but his wife’s smile nearly made him melt. The burden of infertility had stolen her happiness. She hadn’t smiled in months, but now she did. He’d have to find a way to get rid of the monkey and keep her happy.
Even with the roof down, the smell was overwhelming. Aiden’s gut gurgled with nausea. He pressed the gas pedal harder; the car picked up speed. “Let’s just get home.”
The whoop-whoop of the siren made Aiden cringe as he looked in the mirror and saw alternating red and blue flashing lights.
Blinky moved excitedly in the cage to see over the trunk, the commotion catching his attention.
Aiden pulled over.
The police officer stepped out of the vehicle and stood alongside their car. “Good afternoon,” he said, suddenly wrinkling his nose. “What’s that?” he asked, now distracted by a chattering monkey in the backseat.
“We rescued him from Tronka’s pet shop, Officer. They’ve gone out of business. He’s a capuchin monkey.”
“I see. I think his diaper’s dirty,” he offered, pointing out the obvious.
“I’m sorry I was speeding, Officer. The smell was kind of getting to me,” Aiden explained, giving a forlorn face.
“Yeah, I understand. You folks live close to here?” the cop continued.
“Just up the hill. Briarwood Estates,” Tiffany said, smiling.
“Okay then,” the officer said. “I’ll let you go with a warning. Try to mind your speed.” He stepped away from Aiden’s side of the car. “Good luck with your monkey.”
“Thank you,” Aiden replied, wishing he could ask the cop to take it.
When he pulled the car into the garage, Tiffany stepped toward the back and lifted Blinky from his cage, seemingly unfazed by the stench. She carried him and her bag from the pharmacy into the house.
“Take him outside and hose him!” Aiden yelled after them.
With a clean diaper, Blinky now sported a child’s onesie jumpsuit and a watermelon-sized smile.
“I’ve set up his cage in the garage,” Aiden said.
“The garage?”
“Yes,” he replied, sensing his worst nightmare was taking form.
“Aiden. He’s a baby. He can’t stay in the garage. I’ll put him in our bedroom so he can feel secure.”
He followed his wife up the steps, knowing his protest would fall on deaf ears. “Maybe you can put him in a guest bedroom, Babe? I mean, there are five of them, so one of them will do.”
“We want him to have a secure attachment. I’m sure he’ll be frightened for a while in the new surroundings.”
Aiden placed the cage in the corner of their oversized bedroom. The pungent scent of the monkey’s excrement lingered in his nostrils. As his wife bustled around the house with the animal on her hip, his stomach clenched with an uneasy feeling that life was about to take a nosedive.
***
Two weeks passed as Tiffany and Blinky had established a routine and cadence. Aiden had yet to find his rhythm in all of it, annoyed with the monkey’s constant chatter, squawking, and endless scratching. He used to hate leaving in the morning, but now he was departing earlier and earlier.
“The shop owner was right. Blinky loves those insects. I can’t understand why you couldn’t catch them, Aiden? I think fresh would be better than the freeze-dried ones.” Tiffany said, massaging the animal’s back.
“You’ve read so many books and watched so many YouTube videos, I think you’ve earned a PhD in zoology.”
“We have to be careful,” she said. “Monkeys aren’t common pets and require specialized care.”
“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “That monkey has a better wardrobe than I do, Tiffany. Do you really think he needs all that stuff?”
She had spent hours online buying clothes, toys, preemie diapers, and even a book on potty training.
Aiden had come home from work one evening and found Tiffany and Blinky sitting on the couch as she read Everybody Poops to him.
“I’m pretty sure Blinky might be interested in potty training.”
“That’s nice,” he replied, thumbing through a pile of mail. Aiden wasn’t as convinced as Tiffany.
At least she agreed to the diaper genie being placed outside. He only hoped the smell didn’t carry to their neighbors.
Tiffany walked up to Aiden, placed her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “I think I’ve been neglecting you,” she said, nuzzling closer.
He dropped the mail and reciprocated the kiss. “Yes. Yes, you have.” He smiled.
They ate dinner and drank some wine as Blinky, now with a second cage, looked on, eating a mango.
“Let’s go to bed early,” she suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, unable to curb his enthusiasm.
Tiffany opened the cage door, allowing the monkey to escape and run up the stairs.
“Maybe we should keep him in his cage downstairs.”
“He’ll be asleep soon.” She kissed him again.
Blinky climbed into his cage, and Tiffany closed and locked the door behind him. “I think I need to buy a more sophisticated lock for him. He got out of his cage the other day and followed me into the bathroom while I showered.
Aiden’s face curdled. That this monkey could set itself free was more than discomforting. “Maybe a combination lock,” he laughed, snuggling closer.
He climbed out of bed and checked whether the animal was sleeping. The tension in his back and shoulders lifted as he saw the monkey curled under a blanket. With a soft, almost childlike motion, it slipped its thumb into its mouth and sucked quietly. Even he had to admit that sleeping, Blinky looked cute.
Aiden grabbed a blanket and covered the cage. He wanted them to have a modicum of privacy, and the blanket would be ideal.
He returned to bed, and Tiffany snuggled closer. They kissed, heat and urgency rising, trying to stay quiet. Aiden let out a long, low sigh of satisfaction.
Then came a shriek from the cage—sharp and piercing, like someone being murdered. The cover had slipped, and Blinky was in a frenzy, hurling toys and scraps through the bars. The cage rattled under his furious leaps.
“Blinky!” Tiffany cried, rushing out of bed.
“Honey, put your robe on,” Aiden said, half-rising.
She waved him off, heart pounding, intent on calming the monkey before disaster struck.
By then, Blinky had already stripped off his soiled diaper.
***
Armed with a bucket of soap, disinfectants, and a carpet shampooer, Mayumi Santos headed into the couple’s bedroom. When she was finished, she scowled at Aiden, wagging her finger. The smell of bleach wafted behind her. The matronly woman had been their housekeeper for five years after immigrating from the Philippines.
“It is not my place to tell you,” Mayumi said softly, “but a home isn’t a place for a monkey.”
Aiden, red-faced as if scolded by his teacher, nodded his head. “I agree, Mayumi. But right now, Tiffany is happier than I’ve seen in a while. We won’t keep him.”
“I understand.” She gave him a knowing nod, having been privy to the IVF problems. “It is good to see her smile.”
He gave her a wad of cash, three times her usual rate. “I’m really sorry. We’ll do better.”
She tried to return the extra money, but he pushed her hand back. “You deserve it. Thanks again.”
After she left, Tiffany returned inside with Blinky in tow. “He was just upset,” she said, attempting to excuse the monkey’s behavior.
“Tiffany,” he said, taking her hand.
Blinky placed his hand on top of theirs, and it took the husband extraordinary willpower not to remove it.
“I know what you’re going to say, Aiden. He had an accident. He’ll do better.”
“He’s moving into a guest room.” His voice was firm.
“Okay, but he may vocalize for a while.”
“That’s what earplugs are for.”
By the second week, in the farthest guest room from their suite, Blinky had settled down to a relieved Aiden.
One morning, as Tiffany was making their coffee, Aiden called from inside the pantry. “Hey, Babe, do you know where those orange biscotti are?”
“Try the top shelf.”
“I did. They’re not there, nor are my Oreos. Are you hiding them?”
“No, are you sure you didn’t eat them?”
“Yes!” he huffed.
“Will you please get Blinky down for some breakfast?”
Still fuming that his treats had gone missing, Aiden climbed upstairs and down the hall. When he stepped into the guest room, Blinky was lying in his cage, sucking on biscotti.
“What the…” he shouted, realizing the door had been jimmied open. “How’d you get out?”
He grabbed the monkey, discovering the Oreo bag and an empty biscotti box. “Tiffany,” he yelled, carrying Blinky, running down the steps. “He got out of his cage and ate all my cookies!”
Blinky pulled away from Aiden and stretched his arms to Tiffany, who took him. “I told you we needed a new lock.”
As he drove to work, Aiden was convinced they needed more than a new lock; they needed to get rid of Blinky.
That evening, when he stepped inside the house, a delicious aroma made Aiden’s mouth water. Flickering candles dotted the room, giving it a romantic, peaceful ambiance. For a moment, he wondered where Blinky was in the picture, but would not complain, seeing Tiffany dressed in a black pantsuit and smiling.
“Hi, Honey,” she said, kissing him.
“Hey.” He pulled her close, taking in the floral scent of her hair.
Before Aiden could turn, Blinky had climbed up his back and began running his fingers through the husband’s hair.
Aiden wanted to shriek but took a deep inhale. His eyes met Tiffany’s.
“See, he likes you, Aiden.”
Sitting on Aiden’s shoulders, Blinky’s fingers ran through his hair, inspecting and pulling. Carefully, he lifted the monkey and brought him down. “Tiffany.” His eyes softened. “You know we can’t keep doing this, right?”
She sniffled. “I know.”
They sat quietly, eating their meal under Blinky’s watchful eyes. When their meal was over, the silence continued as Tiffany ushered the monkey into its cage and covered it. She glanced at the useless lock and left the door open.
The house was silent. As the refrigerator hummed, it gave way from its usual steady rhythm, with a shudder, a faint crackle behind the wall.
The faint smell of singed plastic was too subtle for the sleeping couple upstairs. A blue spark arced inside the outlet, flaring like a struck match. It snaked up the wall, licking the cardboard-like shades covering the windows. Fed, the flames grew fast and hot, torching the cabinets, racing up the wall. The smoke thickened, slipping into vents and creeping up the staircase.
Still, Aiden and Tiffany slept, undisturbed.
Only Blinky stirred, his nose twitching at the acrid smell. His dark eyes snapped open, seeing the smoke under the door. He screeched, sharp and high, pushing his way out of the cage and into the hallway.
His second screech was louder—still nothing. He scampered into their room, jumped up on the bed, and shook Tiffany.
She groaned and rolled to her side, pushing the little monkey.
Blinky shrieked again, leaping onto Aiden’s chest, scratching his face, and pulling his hair.
Aiden’s eyes flew open. First with rage, then transforming into an awareness of the acrid smoke filling his lungs. “Tiffany,” he coughed out the word, shaking her.
Jumping up and down on the bed, shrieking, Blinky was the most effective fire alarm. He scampered out of the bedroom door, checking to make sure Aiden and Tiffany followed behind.
They made their way outside through a guest room with a deck and a staircase leading down. Now, standing yards from their home, they watched as the fire consumed it, grateful for the little monkey that had awakened them.
As the firefighters worked to tame the flames, Tiffany scanned the grass and driveway. “Blinky?”
But Blinky wasn’t there.
“He was just in front of us—” Tiffany gasped, spinning, scanning the scene. “Aiden, where is he?”
Aiden turned, wild-eyed, searching the yard. Smoke poured from the roof, embers spiraling into the sky. Somewhere in the distance, coyotes yipped, their calls rising and falling in the hills. The sound made Tiffany’s blood run cold.
“The fire…he must’ve…” Aiden’s voice broke. He shook his head, unable to finish.
They searched the edge of the yard, calling his name between ragged breaths, but the night answered only with the pop and hiss of their burning home. At last, Tiffany sank to her knees, sobbing, and Aiden held her.
“He saved us,” she whispered into his chest. “But we didn’t save him.”
***
The fire inspector determined that an electrical malfunction had started the blaze. While their smoke alarms had eventually sounded, Blinky had been their first and most effective warning system, waking them in time to escape unharmed.
In the weeks that followed, tattered reward signs appeared on telephone poles throughout the neighborhood, bearing Blinky’s photo and Tiffany’s desperate plea: “MISSING: Beloved Pet Monkey. Please help us bring him home.” Friends and family joined their search, combing the hills and canyons, but the vast Nevada landscape seemed to have swallowed him whole. There were no sightings, no calls, no traces.
“Maybe he found other monkeys,” Tiffany said one evening, months after the fire, as she stood in the kitchen of their rental house. “I want to believe that.”
Aiden looked up from the insurance paperwork scattered across their temporary dining table. “Maybe,” he said softly, though they both knew wild capuchin monkeys didn’t roam the Nevada desert.
They were swallowed by grief. Not only about losing Blinky, but who they’d become with him. Tiffany had been more animated, more hopeful in those chaotic weeks than she’d been in years. And Aiden had discovered, despite his protests, that he’d grown fond of the mischievous little creature who’d turned their orderly world upside down.
“I keep thinking about that night,” Tiffany said, her voice barely above a whisper. “How he must have been so scared, but he still came to wake us up.”
“He saved our lives,” Aiden replied, setting down his pen. “He was a brave boy.”
Loss and love had reshaped their lives in unexpected ways. Somehow, through all the madness, they had grown closer, focusing on different priorities.
***
Three years later, the twins were a miracle Tiffany and Aiden still couldn’t quite believe. Jacob and Isabella had arrived eighteen months after the fire—a surprise pregnancy that their fertility specialist called “unexplainable but wonderful.” Their house now rang with laughter and chaos of a different sort.
The children, now almost four, had heard the story of Blinky countless times—how a brave little monkey had once lived with Mommy and Daddy and saved their lives. To Jacob and Isabella, Blinky was as real as any fairy tale hero, and they often asked to see pictures of him on Tiffany’s phone.
“Can we go see monkeys today?” Isabella asked one Saturday morning, tugging on Aiden’s sleeve as he read the newspaper.
“I want to see the monkeys too!” Jacob chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Tiffany looked up from loading the dishwasher and caught Aiden’s eye. They’d avoided zoos and animal sanctuaries since losing Blinky, the reminder too painful. But watching their children’s excited faces, she knew it was time.
“The Desert Springs Zoo has a new primate exhibit,” she said slowly. “I saw it advertised.”
Aiden folded his newspaper, studying his wife’s expression. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, giving him a small smile.
An hour later, they were walking through the zoo’s entrance, each parent holding a small hand while the twins chattered excitedly about all the animals they hoped to see.
The primate exhibit was housed in a large, glass-domed enclosure with trees, climbing structures, and a viewing area separated by thick glass. A small troop of capuchin monkeys moved through the branches, and Jacob pressed his nose against the glass in wonder.
“Look how they swing!” Isabella squealed.
Tiffany watched the monkeys play, her heart catching at their familiar movements, the way they used their tails for balance, the curious tilt of their heads, the nimble fingers that explored everything. One smaller monkey caught her attention as it separated from the group and approached the glass where they stood.
“He’s looking at us,” Jacob whispered in awe.
The monkey pressed its small hand against the glass, and Isabella immediately placed her palm against the same spot from the other side. The animal tilted its head, studying her with bright, intelligent eyes that reminded Tiffany so much of Blinky that her breath caught.
“Is he Blinky, Mommy?” Isabella asked innocently.
Tiffany knelt beside her daughter, placing her own hand on the glass next to Isabella’s. The monkey watched them both, calm and curious. “I don’t know, Sweetheart,” she said honestly. “But he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Aiden came up behind them, resting his hands on their shoulders. “They all look happy here,” he said quietly.
The monkey at the glass seemed to nod before turning and swinging back to rejoin its troop. They watched as it settled next to a female with a baby clinging to her back—a little family of its own.
“Tell us the Blinky story again,” Jacob requested as they walked toward the exit later that afternoon.
As they made their way back to the car, Tiffany began the familiar tale: “Once upon a time, there was a very special monkey named Blinky who came to live with us…” But this time, the story felt different—less grief and more like a celebration.
“And he was the bravest monkey in the whole world,” Isabella finished solemnly.
“Yes,” Tiffany agreed, glancing back at the exhibit one last time. “He was.”
That night, after the children were asleep, Tiffany and Aiden sat on their back porch, watching the stars emerge in the desert sky.
“Do you think we’ll ever know what happened to him?” she asked.
Aiden was quiet for a long time. “Maybe it doesn’t matter,” he said finally. “Maybe what matters is that Blinky taught us something about love—how it can come into your life unexpectedly, turn everything upside down, and change you forever.”
Tiffany reached for his hand. “Even when it’s messy and difficult?”
“Especially then,” he smiled. “Look at us now.”
She squeezed his fingers, thinking of their sleeping children, their rebuilt life, and a small monkey who had somehow played a role in its possibility. In the distance, a coyote howled at the moon—not a sound of menace now, but another voice in the vast, mysterious desert that had room for all kinds of survivors.
“Thank you, Blinky,” she whispered to the stars. “Wherever you are.”
♥♥♥
In Hope Verdad Presents Short Stories About Love, author Francesca Flood cements herself as a master storyteller who knows how to manipulate readers’ emotions, force us to think and consider, and leave us uplifted.
“Love is not always what it appears to be—not sentiment, not physical bond, but the quiet act of acknowledging someone and affirming that their presence in the world matters.” – author Francesca Flood
Don’t for a minute think these short stories are full of mushy sentiments and cheesy romance; as the title reveals: these are not so much love stories but stories about love and how it is found in unexpected ways and places. What’s impressive is that Flood does so much, so quickly within the confines of a short story. No two stories are alike, and the author’s writing is cerebral but relatable and truly evocative: expect tears to flow from both heartache and humor.
“The black velvet sky cradled the moon like a pearl.” – from “Two Lives—One Soul”
Whether it's a domestic abuse shelter, the shores of the Tyrrhenian Sea, a futuristic (but eerily familiar) American society, or a hospice unit, richly detailed descriptions of time and place are provided by the author so that readers are fully immersed, observing the characters like flies on the wall.
“Everyone could understand that murder was a bad thing until it was okay, as sanctioned by the Supreme Authority, for spreading fake news, possessing forbidden materials, or failing to report suspicious behavior.” – from “For the Love of Country”
One aspect of Flood’s writing that is noteworthy is her ability to write fiction that seems like fact. Dystopian “For the Love of Country” is almost painful to read and see the parallels to contemporary USA and recognize how easy it would be to tip into the depicted scenario. Similarly, “Grocery Shopping” portrays a much-too-real snapshot of a woman, with her self-described “face mapped with lines of regret and poor choices.” Her normal day goes horribly and violently wrong; yet, she finds surprising redemption there—and so will readers.
“A sacred chasm lies between this side of the veil and the mystery beyond—this sliver of space between life and death, where the dying often speak of seeing loved ones or angels or hearing music no one else can perceive.” – from “Passages”
The award-winning endcap story, “Passages,” shifts into nonfiction zone with the author’s experiences volunteering in an end-of-life care facility. Flood’s insights, based on her interactions and observations with the dying, are poignant. She reframes what outwardly seems like a depressing venture into one that was life changing noting: “Living with the dying saved me.”
Carefully crafted and impactful, Hope Verdad Presents Short Stories About Love is also highly entertaining and leaves a lasting impression. This engaging collection is one to read and re-read.