Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Jake made sure everyone knew what was at stake. He’d been doing it for weeks on the advice of the midwife who couldn’t guarantee his wife Betts would carry their baby to term. Every day, as he was boarding the skiff that took him to the job site at the base of the New New York Bridge (New New for short) he’d remind his team captain that when he got the call, he’d need a ride back double time. It was the weather that screwed him over. While Betts pushed, Jake, stuck on the skiff tethered to the base of the bridge, played endless rounds of gin rummy. The river roiled and heaved and only grew still the following morning, at which point, Jake was hardly in a position to take issue with the ridiculous name Betts had chosen for their son ‑ Albert. On the list of boy’s names, it didn’t even crack the top one hundred.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.