By Karen Walker Lost rain wandering parking lots and highways in search of the earth. Down-on-its-luck rain watering plastic petunias on a twentieth-floor balcony.
By Mary Amato
Marjorie hadn’t noticed that one of the eggs was broken until she arrived home. Once, she had been the kind of person to check before purchasing.
By Andrea Daniels Peanut smoked every bit of meth that night in the hotel. Her sister loaned her money. Not exactly. A check for rehab, far from drugs and close to trees.
By Julia Labusch
My girl and I used to spend hours every Saturday evening strolling our way around the cul-de-sac; her on her Ariel-red trike, and me walking beside.
By Hanne Christensen
I remember this moment. Shrieks and laughter that I ignore. Cold metal on my hands, dizzying anticipation while I calculate whether woodchips are sufficient enough to soften my fall.
By Yunya Yang
1. Long ago, we drove in the woods.
2. It was night. My mother was at the wheel, the headlights conjuring shape-shifting wraiths drifting in the darkness.
By Yash Seyedbagheri
Wait your turn, signs proclaim. Wait for Chinese food. Wait to pick up cocktails from the bar, your only Friday night friends now.
By Katherine Hubbard
Nina’s four, I’m seven. At the penny-toss Nina wins a goldfish with silvery fins–everyone cheers. I toss all my pennies, win nothing.
By Victoria Cho
We had a little photo store in Old Tappan. Our father named it Gold Star Photos. My brother and I spent summers in the back, where the studio was, not doing summer homework.
We received a number of wonderful stories to this month's photo prompt, and we were stymied to pick a single winner, so please indulge us in presenting these two gems.