FALLING • by Michael Guillebeau
We are sitting on the brink, and I am cleaning my gun.You say, “This is something I can do by myself.” I nod.“And yet, here I am.” You kick your legs over the edge like a little girl, back and… Continue Reading
We are sitting on the brink, and I am cleaning my gun.You say, “This is something I can do by myself.” I nod.“And yet, here I am.” You kick your legs over the edge like a little girl, back and… Continue Reading
Someone seated at my table blurts a question while staring absently across the room, “What’s up with mister guy in a tie over there?” I look up from my plate of partially picked over food and see who they are… Continue Reading
On the second day of the Lunar New Year, we honored your maternal great grandfather’s life by going to the cemetery dedicated to revolutionary heroes and government officials in Hanoi. We stood by the famous anticolonialist revolutionary’s grave. Your auntie… Continue Reading
My mom gave me a little magic cocoa box for my fifth birthday, made of tin, with a snap lock to keep the cocoa safe. A year later, it still refills on its own. I drink cocoa every single day,… Continue Reading
I heard you the first time, Derrick. The clouds are rolling in. Sure. I can see that. I can look up and see them. But have you ever wondered where the clouds come from? Have you ever given that any… Continue Reading
“And then, maybe you’ll think of me whenever you see the stars.” Shahrzad remembered when she closed her book and took off her glasses, looking at the ceiling lights. Her mother had told her this, thirty-nine years ago. Shahrzad had… Continue Reading
After he hit Len’s ancient used car, the drunk in the pickup truck offered seventy-five dollars and a gun for the damage done. He said, “Okay now, no need for police,” and though there was a left headlight to replace,… Continue Reading
She is a spirit known by several names, but most often as the Lady From the Sea. My family encountered her one fine summer afternoon, and I am the only one left to tell the tale. We were promenading by… Continue Reading
We race down rubble-filled roads. In the back, a woman whispers prayers while Marina dresses her leg wound. My pager buzzes. Meteor, Sector 15. Five minutes. “Jayde, we’re too close,” Marina warns. But I can see him. He’s in rescue… Continue Reading
In the rural hamlet of Lincoln, Pennsylvania, stories weren’t meant to be rewritten. As if born with a script in their hand, the townspeople all acted according to plan. Same as their parents and their grandparents before them, and perhaps… Continue Reading