Oedipus Sings Smooth Jazz Patrick’s mom pushes me aside, squeals, and rushes the stage when he starts singing  “It Might Be You.” He hears her screaming and blows her a kiss.  I wave.  He blows his mom a second kiss.  Maybe he doesn’t see me standing right there. Or, worse, he does see me and … Continue reading Micro fiction, Litsa Dremousis