Monro

Okay, I read an Alice Monro story.  Called Amundson.  Began like this ...

On the bench outside the station, I sat and waited. The station had been open when the train arrived, but now it was locked. Another woman sat at the end of the bench, holding between her knees a string bag full of parcels wrapped in oiled paper. Meat—raw meat. I could smell it 

It was pretty good, although I'm not sure I would have given her the Pulitzer Prize for it.  At the same time, it should be said, I didn't have the urge to carve her heart out and eat it, like the evil Magua did to Colonel Munro.

So that's something.

You can read it here.  And if, after that, your thirst for Monro is unslakable, go here for a dozen stories, all available with the click of a button and no money exchanged.  The website you will arrive at if you click the second "here" is called Open Culture and it appears to contain more good clean fun than one person can have in a lifetime.  Check out their free courses, some of which look like they'd be quite interesting.