“I am Taylor,” he assures. My drummer hides beneath her cymbals. My bassist coughs and apologizes to no one specific. The audition flier specifies that our all-girl band, The Four Holsters of the Apocalypse, seeks an eighteen- to nineteen-year-old female… Continue Reading
There is a round man, and every day he drinks three long-necks of Bintang from the same white sun lounge on the black sands of Echo Beach. I monitor him from a subtle five lounges down the row because the… Continue Reading
I stand halfway up red lava tinged cliffs. It’s a wide ledge here. Below me, subdivisions with the remaining orchards scattered among them. In front, the white and grey granite wall. I pull my spray paint out of my pack… Continue Reading
Grandma’s cell phone was full of dead people when I found it. I suppose that’s the way things work out over time, though. I’ve got one in my phone now too, although it wasn’t always like that. It started two… Continue Reading
The day my mom was admitted into the psych ward at Mass General I decided to lose my virginity. I was almost seventeen, and past all romantic notions of sex. It was not my plan from the get-go. I was… Continue Reading
My younger brother Ben and I sit shoulder to shoulder on the worn leather couch in our family room. “I promise you both Dad is going to fight this,” my mother quietly says. Her eyes meet mine, and I see… Continue Reading
I. Instead of casseroles, the CDC caseworker brought the new widow a cardboard box of food. Canned corn. Dried beans. Prunes. A preprinted label declared this box appropriate for the widow’s age and weight. “It’s not usually quite enough,” the… Continue Reading
Butterfly Boy is watching TV in the trailer park house he shares with his ma, Jeannie. His castle is guarded by a moat of cigarette butts and beer bottles. His face is brown like hers, but the bandages covering his… Continue Reading
Hank sat listening to Oliver describe the car for the fifth time, trying to look engaged, though he couldn’t help the occasional glance past the young man into the kitchen where his pitcher of martinis was waiting. If he suggested… Continue Reading
Approaching the courtyard, Al, my brother, hauled his leather sandals under his shaved armpits. I copied him and reached my left hand closer to his right, but he flinched. “I will not hold her until she covers her face,” he… Continue Reading