Melissa Ragsly 1990. Empty houses and sleeves of saltines. There is no other place to go. We exist in the middle. Middle class, mid-range stores, in the middle of Long Island. The center of the mall, a circle of people-watching benches. A cloud of Drakkar hits you before the lacrosse…
Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors compare their recently released books to weird things. This week Abigail Stewart writes about Foundations, her new novel out from Whiskey Tit Press. If Foundations were a cocktail, it would be an extra dirty gin martini…
Jessika Bouvier There was a rumor that The Call would change everything. We waited in the line for the communal shower with our ears turned upward. We hovered in the kitchen-lobby-living room of our dormitory, chewing our catered lunches shamefully, like prisoners, or mice, or very mousy prisoners. We itched…
