“You are six. Your life is entirely spun from riddles, or, in less poetic terms, from dumb questions, for which the answers are obvious to anyone with a few extra years of experience. But not to you, not yet.” New fiction by Faith Thomas.
“I’m alive,” sang my heart and my bones. “I’m alive,” sang my sinews. “Maybe that wasn’t such a great idea,” sang my sense of self preservation.
“Uncle Brian tried to bowl, but he couldn’t stop laughing. The ball skipped over into another lane. People stared. He was shouting at someone on the other side of the alley when Grandma went to call security.” New fiction from Daniel Enjay Wong.
“He stops at your seat and asks for your ticket. You tell him you already gave him your ticket. He says, ‘Be that as it may, I still need a ticket.’ You suspect he does not know what ‘Be that as it may’ means.” New fiction from George Choundas.
“I tacked a note to the door: ‘Superintendent working in apartment. Do not close door.’ Anyone seeing the note would think twice before entering. They wouldn’t rob a place with the super around. And the door would still be open for Andi.” New fiction by Michael Mau.
“He brings home her war glass first: easter yellows, pinks, blues. Her corner hutch follows (the glassware needs someplace to live).” New fiction from M.E. Kopp.