THE BROKEN NUTCRACKER • by Derek McMillan
I used to visit Aunty Sash on Saturdays. My mother was glad to have a ten-year-old out of the house for the day. I enjoyed it because Aunt Sash fed me on cake and Corona which was a kind of… Continue Reading
suicide
PATINUM • L. T. Ward
I rented the same beach house as the one we vacationed at fourteen years ago. That was the last summer for the five of us, the one before the children began disengaging from Tyler and I. The one of our… Continue Reading
LIFE OF MEL • by Wanying Zhang
My phone buzzed at 3:42 am, jolting me awake. The police. They had found Mel’s lifeless body splayed across the pavement; limbs contorted against the unforgiving concrete. I was the last person she called. My ears rang, and my pulse… Continue Reading
YOUR BROTHER’S PHONE • by Roberta Kay
You carry his phone in your pocket. Its weight, the closest you have now to holding his hand. Taking it out, you glance through his pictures, read his texts. The phone is still alive. To shut it down would be… Continue Reading
MATCHED • by Bob DeRosa
I understood the swiping, I’m not an idiot. I’d dated my share of guys, but the stakes were so much higher this time around. I would swipe right and as soon as someone else did, we’d be in this thing.… Continue Reading
LENNY OAKLEY’S NEW SHIRT • by Noah Lloyd
Mikey sits in the backseat of his father’s T-Bird, smoking a joint. His mohawk, the near-white color of lime sorbet, glows orange briefly in the dark. Earlier today Mikey shoved an older boy up against a locker so hard that… Continue Reading
THE END OF THE EARTH • by Matt Kulke
The earth was flat, and you could commit suicide without worrying about being a nuisance. You could jump right off the edge, not so much dead as gone. No one had to fish out your body. Pat’s mother knocked on… Continue Reading
SHIA • by Eli Simmons
Her home was not a reflection of herself. Its walls didn’t exude her humor, wit, or pastimes. Shia was the result of a culture she didn’t belong to, its customs rooted in pop culture references and hip-hop. I can remember… 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
SLICE • by Barbara Boehm Miller
My sister slices the pie, her lips drawn together in a tight purse, the disapproving grimace of a person performing an unfamiliar task. We sit at the dining room table. I look because I can’t stop myself from staring over… Continue Reading