She Said Yes Amy Locke There was no fanciful scavenger hunt, no skywriter puffing out a trail of letters, no carpet of curling rose petals, no poem pushed through quivering lips, not even a ring—just the two of them at their wobbly kitchen table, with an order of chicken…
Bylaws Brian Ross As I till the garden and my husband’s mistress passes in her foreign sedan, I remember that the English hung the severed heads of traitors on the gate of London Bridge and I wonder if our condo association would object to a similar measure. …
Theory of Relativity Between Colorado and Iowa Jonathan Starke I was here (a) and she was there (b), and for whatever reason, the time (t), the miles (d), the way she turned, left, and never looked back (x), my arm was never long enough to reach her. …
Shame C. Wallace Walker She’d never lied to him before and understood that he would never trust her again if he found out from someone else, but every time she tried to tell him about that night, the words smoldered to cinders in her mouth. The Death of…
Blushing Alone C. Wallace Walker When Karen checked her e-mail after a 12-hour shift at the hospital, she fired off a scathing response to the editor whose submissions call was for stories about “Nurses and Their Panties,” only to receive a message a few minutes later from that same…
The Good Fight Steve Russomano Sherman spent most of his time warring with the ants in his home, never knowing that his wife, wanting his demise of one kind or another, spent most of her time placing bits of food in discreet corners. The Passive Cynic Miriam Rimkunas…
Precipice Denise Wilson It took three heartbeats to consider, for the first time in my life, that I might not be mentally stable, two more to realize I’d really heard my dead brother’s voice; “Cat,” he’d said, loud and clear. Obsessed S. Kay He clicks reload, waiting for…
Dimensions Steve Russomano The greater part of the crowd was preoccupied with the macaws and birds-of-paradise, leaving me ample room to bond with the Dodos in the mural There I Lay Jorge Piocuda There I lay, blood pumping out of my body, like a water hose that was…
An Uncomfortable Engagement Patrick O. Strickland With her formless torso hunched only slightly over a dinner entrée that’s nowhere near finished, and friends of different epochs peering attentively from each side, the nervous girl is attempting to oscillate between her present self and her former self: the consequence…
