I am rereading Raymond Carver’s short stories. Nothing happens in these stories, nothing in terms of real-life events—suggestions of events only. A man and a woman are lying in bed. Nothing happens. Only the woman can not sleep. We follow her restlessness. A postman welcomes a new family in town. He observes them while they settle and leave town again.
There is no twist at the end of the stories—just a little wrinkle, at best.
