Category: Fiction

Paul Rousseau In clammy triage room, Nurse says word. Mail. Male function. Have not done that for while. Ha. Wait.

Anna Fischer Many believed her a woman because she had wide, rough palms, a certain firmness of the jaw, and

Will Dowd Labra un arduo cristal: el infinitoMapa de Aquél que es todas Sus estrellas. —Jorge Louis Borges, “Spinoza” I’m

Corey Farrenkopf A note they neglect to tell writers: choose the ideal desk. Something spacious. Maybe mahogany or walnut, some

Emily Johnson They ask, what radicalized you? It was The Mitten Tree. It appeared every year, similar to the first

Allison Wyss I cut off one hand before I drew the circle around the apple tree and one hand after.

Neil Serven It was varnish day at the casket factory. On the sidewalk he was holding Evelyn’s hand when they

Eleanor Levine She was an American soldier stationed in Syria. Well, at first I thought it was Syria, until my

Gary Fincke Color mattered.  Sunday mornings, his father held out shirts and ties like a ring bearer and waited for