By Stephanie Yu Years later, we would have mortgages, car payments, and life insurance, but no recollection of when we all dropped acid together in the high desert after graduation.
By Frances Gapper Luke started to howl as Mum click-clicked the washing machine. “He’ll be all nice and fresh!” she cried in her bright and ruthless voice.
By Barbara Diggs Nia didn’t mind at first. Being at her kids’ eye-level made life easier. Their odd stories and complaints became miraculously comprehensible.
By Leslie Walker Trahan He’s just a man who works at the candy company. When he visits, he brings me and Mom bags of malformed candies, the ones that weren’t good enough to package.
By Sarita Sidhu My parents are fading. As did theirs. My father’s unyielding certitude has been momentarily displaced by bewilderment, betraying a loss of relevance in a new world order.
By Kendall Brunson His daughters ran from the back of the yard screaming “Snake! Snake!” The poisonous water moccasin slithered after his children, but his wife was the first to react.