BOXES • by Hananah Zaheer
On Tuesday, I finally meet him. He comes in to the post office where I work, says he received a phone call telling him there was a package. Tony, who is helping him at the corral next to mine, chomps… Continue Reading
Literary
KIND OF POOR • by Marc Elias Keller
There’s nothing wrong with Snug Harbor. It’s a classy, dignified, and orderly place. The shows start and end right on time. But of all the jazz spots on Frenchmen Street, it’s my least favorite. It’s just a little too orderly.… Continue Reading
EX TALK • by Hannah Labovitch
I shouldn’t shag Evan. I told myself I wasn’t going to, but here I am at two in the morning in Evan’s apartment, and there is definitely going to be sex. I’m not quite sure how to get out of… Continue Reading
NOTES FOR ME, BUT ALSO BRIAN • by Catríona O’Rourke
I leave a trail of anonymous messages behind me everywhere I go. Nothing too obvious. I do not write on toilet cubicle walls in Sharpie or spray-paint back alleys at night, I don’t tag shop fronts or scratch my name… Continue Reading
SHIPWRECKED • by Dane Gill
Think of it this way, comrade, I said to Vasily. If the bears eat us, when the wolves come we won’t have anything to feed them. Vasily failed to see the humour. He only further furrowed his brow and checked… Continue Reading
WELCOME TO BATTERSEA • by Ioan Marc Jones
Glad I left the Rose and Crown. Gets rowdy after midnight. Only art in that place was on forearms, only religion was on fingers. Everyone dressed the same. Skint. But still 40-quid Fred Perry double-tips, buttoned-up, pinching against 20-quid Harringtons.… Continue Reading
BRINGING THE CHILDREN HOME • by Amethyst Loscocco
This morning I scrubbed the apartment more thoroughly than was necessary considering I’d declined all visitors, both the well- and ill-wishing kind. I ignored the phone. The battery will be dead in a few hours and I’m considering letting it… Continue Reading
7TH FLOOR SLUT • by Natalie A. Drozda
The 7th floor slut lived across the hall from me and I didn’t care. At first. I had no interactions with her for the first month of freshman year. Admittedly, I was so nervous I didn’t have many interactions, period.… Continue Reading
A CONVERSATION BETWEEN ARTISTS • by Angel T. Dionne
I found a sort of skull in the garden. You did? Let me see. I didn’t bring it inside. It’s a skull. Well, what kind of animal is it from? I don’t know. Do I look like a zoologist? All… Continue Reading
CAPE TOWN, 1991 • by Rosemary Harp
(trigger warning for sexual assault involving children/minors) The ceiling is white, the walls are white, the curtains are white. They swell and recede in unison like lungs. On the breeze, Mina can smell frangipani and chlorine. She is pinned to… Continue Reading