By Elena Zhang
“Let me tell you about your lao ye, Ayi says. I feel a pressure on my wrist, then a sharp tap as the needle bites into flesh, hovering just above rivers of blood.”
Needle
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There Is No Gold Here
By Elena Zhang
“When I was young, my father loved to tell me the story of the man who buried gold in his backyard.”
The Interruption
By Cheryl Snell
“The image I had almost captured is severed. The ink scrapes dry. My thoughts are caught in the tumble of spun sugar in my brain. It melts and it sticks.”
Three Rings and a Window to Heaven
By Jacob Griffin Hall
“Three and a half months ago, we opened the door and sidestepped the bird. The poor thing had died right at the front step. It was terribly sad, I thought, to die. Even worse with a landlord who’d leave you to the insects.”
Pies with Secrets
By Karen Walker
“But hers were pies with secrets. How much sugar and cinnamon, but also what could be wrong inside.”
Empty Pockets
By Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena
“My wife informed me that my son had a fever. She was agitated and upset. She stayed in bed beside our child all night with her prayer books and rosary.”
Eulogy in Pigtown
By Craig Kirchner
“Sober Monday mornings we discussed Kafka, Sartre, and you. Champagne on ice in case you visited, knowing you wouldn’t. In between sets you read poems.”
How to be Cool Like Frankie
By Catherine Chiarella Domonkos
“Doormen, delivery guys, and nannies call out to Frankie in Spanish when we walk over to the playground in Washington Square. Guapo is the one word I can always make out. Handsome. Grown-ups notice him.”
No Clapping
By Sean Ennis
“Today the class was told, no clapping! It is simply too loud, and there isn’t that much to celebrate. The sound baffles match our school colors, but they are ineffective. The antique windows rattle with applause. If you came here to be congratulated, I’ve got news for you. But if you came here, you’re in the right place.”
How the Future Deals with XX
By Kat Meads
“XX is not prepared for the future. She does not fail to engage with the oncoming due to indifference, ingrained fatalism, or a preference for surprise; she does not resist preparation on heroic, radical principle. Nothing about her predicament reflects choice.”
On the Anniversary of Steven’s Death
By Bethany Jarmul
“My neighbor Dan says I need therapy because today, when a bald eagle landed on my porch railing, dropping a feather on my freshly painted deck, I threw a dart at it. But what does he know?”
Mulberries
By Jon Doughboy
“June in the rustbelt and we’re raving drunkenly down the street trying to catch mulberries in our mouths as they fall, chomp chomp chomp their bloody juice and save them from the sidewalk.”
Pandemic Feature: Casting Call
By Peter Kline
“We’re going to need a younger child. These teenagers are obviously compromised by moneysex and existential dread.”
Pandemic Feature: Biopic
By Peter Kline
“Why don’t we value them when they’re alive?”
“Why don’t we value ourselves?”
Going, Going, Gone
By Amy Marques
“I hear myself say they are gone. Even as I say it, I know I am wrong. Is anyone ever truly gone?”
Honest
By Amy Marques
“The last time she lied was a minute ago. She hasn’t told the truth in years. Her tongue wraps itself around assurances of happiness with no repentances, she is independent, able, fine, fine, fine.”
Television, Explained
By Anthony Varallo
“The main television was in the family room. Usually the main television was large, in comparison to other televisions around the house, say, a twelve-inch black and white atop a kitchen counter, or, in some luckier, more fortunate homes, a fourteen-inch color console injecting a guest bedroom with blue-green light.”
Cinders: A Love Story
By Keith Hood
“Perhaps we should not have done it. He’s been sitting in the closet waiting for her since 1993. His cardboard-colored container resembling an oversized Chinese take-out box with the requisite thin metal handle.”
Bess Recalls the Great Depression
By Kathryn Silver-Hajo
She paints WPA-inspired scenes of fishermen and farm hands, the frame shop on Flatbush a ruckus of wood and wire, tools and nails.
Since The Moon Went Away
By Kathryn Silver-Hajo
When Corinne feels on top of her game, she’s a tangerine-stripe cat strutting around the neighborhood, taking in the scents.
Tumbling
By Kathryn Silver-Hajo
When Norm started to tumble, one by one his friends fell away. Mister Storm Cloud, some said.
Permanence
By Phebe Jewell
For once, the company of young men delights Dorothy. JB nods as Dorothy describes what she wants: the outline of a heron just taking flight, wings raised, beak pointing toward its destination.
When They Find Him
By Andrea Damic
Full Moon beacons above a silhouette hiding in the dark. She welcomes the silence. Ineffable relief.
Sundog at My Window on a Midwestern Winter’s Afternoon
By Jay Summer
Glistening white sunlight bounds through my window, bouncing across the wooden floor like a pristine and puffed up Bichon Frise parading across the room with such pomp, you’re tempted to believe they understand the concept of “best in show.”
So Many
By Ben Roth
We’re sitting on the stoop late one afternoon when a guy walks by with a dog. “Look at this asshole,” my friend says to me.
Cleaning House
By Bill Merklee
Months after the accident, we’re clearing out your house. It’s a daunting task for such a small place. Books everywhere. Endless vinyl but no turntable. Shelves of souvenirs from the same places as the stickers on the back of your charred and crumpled Jetta.
Hive
By Kelli Short Borges
Mandy says she’s queen of seventh grade and we’re her workers and she “ha ha ha’s,” but her eyes flash venom and it’s annoying because Mandy’s the new girl and already thinks she’s royalty but she’s so pretty that we whirr around her…
If It Is Ever Summertime Again
By Thomas O’Connell
It is the raft that you inflated for our daughter to float upon, drifting around the clubhouse pool. The raft is the last place where your breath remains.
Candy Loving
By Len Kuntz
We were trailer park kids who stole things. Middling shit. Squirt guns. Bazooka Joe. Saltwater taffy. Licorice. Playboy magazine. Gordie was always sore. His dad tooled belts. Used them on Gordie. Buckle end to the back and shoulders. My dad was still doing years in Walla Walla. DWI. Vehicular Homicide.
Seeds of Stars
By Richard Stimac
Willa’s older brother set a blanket out in the backyard. His name was William, but people called him Billy. Willa’s full name was Willamina.