Clutch
By Mikki AronoffThe way I remember it, your dad was dying, not mine, his purple-blotched feet peeking out the edge of the hospice bed, its cold rails raised against a fall.
Photo Story: Taco Truck
By Linda Grierson-IrishDad’s latest between-jobs hobby was circling ads with orange highlighter. Imagine, love! An RV! Airstream? Converted bus?
Photo Story: On Autoimmune Disease
By Lauren VoeltzI read a quote that an overweight woman’s shirt said Guess, and Arnold Schwartzenegger answered, thyroid problem and I think of this when I pop Levothyroxine each morning...
Book Review: Snowdog
By Beret OlsenIn Snowdog, Kim Chinquee’s latest collection of flash fiction, the writing is clean and concise, the language unornamented. “[T]he best time to make fake snow is when it’s actually snowing,” she writes in the opening story.
Photo Story: The Gaps Between
By Denise BayesThey announced on the radio that Freddie was dead. I picked up the phone. “Come over,” he said.
Photo Story: Valentine
By Christy BrothersMom packs us into the car. Billy and Jasmine sleep. I sit up front chewing the corners of my nails until they bleed.
Canadensis
By Corinne SilverThey arrived silently, swiftly during the night and stood present by morning. They flocked the fields, parking lots, and manmade suburban ponds. They were big.
Her Mother, My Mother
By Hema NatarajuHer mother never wore a sari, my mother never did not. Her mother drove a Mustang, my mother walked everywhere, even though I hated being picked up last.
Photo Story: At a speed of 0.5 inches per second
By Nora NadjarianThe heartbeat is fast and sharp, except no one knows where the snail’s heart is.
Don’t Bother, They’re Here
By Meg Pokrass“Guess what, Hon? They’re here!” you said, referring to the clowns. They were pounding on our door.
Gone Hunting
By Binx R. PerinoDanny sucks the wet end of a cigarette, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. Wisps of Maggie’s hair whip around from the rolled-down windows.
Kingdom Come
By D.E. HardyStill, I hunger for you: those nights we’d get so high we turned into earthworms, how we would writhe, reverent, our entire bodies capable of taste...
Grace at the Intersection of Cass and Nebraska
By Joanna TheissToday, I saw you accepting a dollar bill from a truck window. The shake of your hips as you thanked the driver reminded me of your electric slide at the middle school dance.
Post-It Mortem
By Dave DonovanLife got too complex for Dan. Job. Wife. Kids. Yard. So he bought a block of Post-It notes and found a calmess in the sticky squares...
