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Away From the Body and At Home
“You’re back then.” She doesn’t turn, doesn’t give the greeting he’d hoped for. (There’s been so little welcome for such a (More)
Hold It Like a Butterfly
When I was nine years old, I received a love letter from the son of the man that came to build our deck. While I no longer have the letter, I still hold on to the memories from those few days. * * * The deck wasn't very large, but it was a big deal (More)
Note to My Seventh Grade Self
As you drive to Rose's house, the water-bottle filled with vodka cold against your calf, you will think these moments are your entire world. As you drive, don't think about how free you feel when you're drunk; make a list of other things that matter. (More)
Hit and Run
The man’s brown baseball cap advertised the Martinsville Speedway. Morris wondered how in the world it had stayed on his head. From the sides of the cap fell long, greasy bangs. The man’s bloodshot eyes registered surprise. His mouth gaped as if he h (More)
Cold Feet
by Beth Escott Newcomer — My feet are so cold. I am stuck in this hospital bed, enduring the dull interval between what they call "lunch" and what they call "dinner". Around here, meals are more of a way to keep time than a culinary experience— (More)
No Sugar Tonight
by Kori Frazier Morgan — (1970) The Seeburg movie jukebox was delivered to the Venice Café in Kent, Ohio in the fall of 1969. It was the first of its kind, an innovation that was as much of a draw to the bar's college crowd as the genuine Italian p (More)
by Jonathan Danielson — The morning after the law passed, I was already out of bed when Mom came in and turned on our light and told us it was time to go. I started pulling on my shorts, but she told me to put on pants because it was cold out. Fed (More)
All Kinds of Meat
by Justine Talbot — The smell was outrageous, but it was beyond my control. Every time I emptied the bowl of stinking dog food my sister filled it again, fuller than before. An offering, she called it. “So the howls don’t keep you awake at night (More)
The Organization
by Ken O' Steen — My father was a painter, a man with no discernible ego whatsoever. He was all curiosity and enthusiasm, reverence and devotion. He painted daily, and ritualistically, even romantically in the best sense. He lacked the gift for (More)
Worse Things than Catastrophe and Death
by Stephen Beachy — Jared is taking Melvin on an endless journey through New York to see Ground Zero. A descent into the underground, warring tribes and incomprehensible languages, all crushed beneath the mechanical functioning of an invisible emp (More)
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