The Mike Robbins blog

Everything is cold here  “Dammit.” “What?” “This form. It wants her place of birth.” He was a compact man of 30 with slicked-back hair...

 A Cold War memory “Nikolai Ivanovich, it is time.” Nikolai stood, steadying himself with a hand on the luggage rack; the they were still ...

Succulent chunks of fresh fiction, cooked at your table and served sizzling hot, with our special spicy sauce Over the last few months I’v...

Strange places. High places. It was after six and the winter daylight had gone. I dropped the others and drove home. The pavements had that ...

A dislocation... “We’ll go to Nidden for the summer,” my wife told me. “You can write your paper there. We can swim in the Baltic and you ca...