Fiction

Morning Sun

Nora is in the kitchen drinking her coffee and looking at the dead teachers at the elementary school. Mrs. Kittridge and Ms. Hofstetter are mingling among the o...

The Mouse and the Walnut Shell

Jenna pulls a pink plastic-wrapped wand out of her purse and sets it down on that container where you’re supposed to dispose of pads and tampons—that steel box ...

Grudge Match

I am mass. I am momentum. I am a big, shuddering kind of a man, arms swinging and trembling muscles in my red spandex. I am wroth, I am masculinity, I am ...

Visitant

She was halving apricots when the phone began. Private Caller. The handset vibrated urgently in her palm. Probably some company trying to scam her into believin...

The Shard

We once left a shard of glass in a drink for his father. Such rage we must have felt. This was after college, after a lot of things, Brownie and I bartending at...

How to Fix a Lamp

Most people are intimidated by anything that remotely resembles electricity. They behave as if even when an item is unplugged, electrodes remain inside and, at...

Breath

Mykhail Kruchevich had hit his wife only once. Whether he had then considered her possible response, he could not now remember, nor could he recall what had pr...

Amongst These Animals

When he presses her up against the cool ceramic sink, her arms plunge into the water. He lifts up her patchwork pinafore, the one that ties oh-so-loosely at th...

Room

On the verge of this, that, or some other thing, Charlotte draws up short in the dining room, all way forward barred by the image of a knife left out on th...

Boys with Secrets

After my best friend broke up with me for Jesus, my other best friend invited me over to watch his favorite film. I was crying, not at the film, which was actua...