FUCKING DOCTOR THOMPSON • by Jack Williams
My wife got me this tie for my birthday once and it was so obviously awful I think she had it custom made. I smiled with all my teeth and thanked her and then I regifted it to the guy… Continue Reading
infidelity
THE RING FINGER • by Natalia Danjon
My husband insisted our phones tracked our every move, that we were never truly free. “Those photos people upload, that life, it’s all an illusion,” Ian said after deleting his account. “You have all of me, love.” His fingers twisted… Continue Reading
PITCH AND CATCH • by Hunter Prichard
Petey had been pitching the baseball against the house for the last hour. He kept an eye on the street, watching for his father’s car. It would be too early for him to be getting home, but his father had… Continue Reading
BUTT-DIAL WHILE OUT SHOPPING • by Lynn Kozlowski
The old man’s first call from his wife was about which exact brand of peanut butter she should be getting since they no longer carried his brand. Her second call was about 10 minutes later. His ‘Hello’ got no response.… Continue Reading
WAJDAN • Iván Brave
It doesn’t take a genius to see how cooking and making love are related. It does, however, take a genius to cook the way one makes love, or vice versa. The key ingredient is time. Ragù napoletano, for example, or… Continue Reading
RETURN TO SENDER • Matthew Hernandez
After our closing, mail intended for the prior owners continued to arrive. At my wife’s suggestion, we hand printed “return to sender” and dropped the letters in the blue collection box near the Panera. The junk—the flyers, directories, advertisements—we tossed.… Continue Reading
LATE-NIGHT SCROLLING • Christy Hartman
Ben’s yellow emoji sticks out among the red hearts and love eyes—a sore-loser’s thumb. We were a Molotov cocktail. Forever holding matches to already scorched skin, craving the relief of explosion. Intoxicated by the ride. His fuse fizzled out two… Continue Reading
ALL THE WOMEN FLEW AWAY • by Val Maloof
When Donny moved out, I decided not to tell people that I had cheated. It was more believable that way, I thought. I shuddered as friends told me I deserved better than “that loser,” but I didn’t protest when my… Continue Reading
UNTIL YOU SING • by Richard Shifman
At ten in the morning, the day was gathering steam, the sun blazing with indifference, exposing wounds with its heat. The whisper of a salty breeze fluttered across the dark pavement and tickled our cheeks, meager relief as we marched… Continue Reading
WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT WOODY ALLEN • by Tony Lacey
“It’s a little early, even for you.” Susan’s right. Even for me. I smile sheepishly. “It’s Friday.” I don’t tell her it’s my second. I don’t tell her why. I don’t tell her about you. “It’s always Friday with you,… Continue Reading