UNASHAMED • by Todd Glasscock
At seven that morning, as she did every morning before work, Alma Day lit a candle for her husband and set it on the small altar she had made for him in her grief support group. Then she walked to… Continue Reading
death of a spouse
ALLEN’S ASHES • by Bonnie Bostrom
She kept Allen’s ashes in a hexagonally shaped enamel box decorated with a mandala of inlaid mother-of-pearl. The workmanship was splendidly intricate and when light played upon its face the box was lustrous, each diamond piece of the pattern shining… Continue Reading
RETRIBUTION • by Dart Humeston
General Abraham Dewey raised his furry chin, his feline nose catching the fragrances riding the soft Florida breeze. He scrunched up his nose and his eyes softened as he savored the moment. Dewey is my black and white tuxedo cat.… Continue Reading
HURRICANES TAKE EVERYTHING • by Prarthana J A
Tegan and Raul. They kissed a lot. They were that kind of couple. The ones that lonely house wives fantasize about while they scrub piles of dirty dishes over their kitchen sinks. They talked a lot, joked a lot too,… Continue Reading
WE TOOK HER OUT • by Valmic Shridhar Mukund
She was already dead, the doctors told us. Had been dead for quite some time. There was nothing to do about it now, nothing to do but what had to be done. It wasn’t sinful, they said. We were just… Continue Reading
WHEN WILL IT END? • by James Hannan
As I walk the boundary of my property after dusk, I don’t trust my eyes. I’m trying to make sense of various shapes around me. Shadows lurking behind trees are like people hiding from me. Bushes, jutting out from the… Continue Reading
JAZZY, JACQUES BARZUN AND BASEBALL • by Ted Lietz
Jazzy had first learned English by reading and her vocabulary could sound strange to my American ears. Words like suitor, betrothal, nuptials. But when Jazzy meant love, that was the word she used. As in her final message, just before… Continue Reading
WEEPING WIDOW • by Tim Boiteau
“Excuse me, sir. Is this your shoe?” The woman was dressed in a loose hibiscus-orange gown, sitting on a stone bench, beneath a matching orange umbrella. I hadn’t seen her at first when turning the corner in the path, but… Continue Reading
AMONG THE LEAVINGS • by William R. Stoddart
Morning — it’s coffee and medication before thieving time from the new day. Albert shakes pills in his left hand like dice and looks out of the kitchen window to a yellow carpet of ginkgo leaves rimed with the first… Continue Reading
ON MOVING ON • by Ted Lietz
I pull dresses and pants, jackets and blouses from the closet and stuff them into plastic trash bags. Given the pandemic, I couldn’t find a charity to take Pearl’s clothes even though, for all the COVID patients she treated, she… Continue Reading