Apr/May 2015

e c l e c t i c a
s p o t l i g h t   a u t h o r


V.K. Reiter

(This is an excerpt—click on the title to view the whole piece!)


The bistro's owner had hired a band to play and sing throughout the evening. The musicians were French but sang Eagles' songs in accented English, and every fourth number seemed to be "Hotel California." I sipped Muscadet and sang along with them even as the feeling of dread I had temporarily been able to ignore returned, as intense as ever.