Issue #16

Gary Fincke

  The Corridors of Longing 1 At twilight, driving Route 8, my father refused the headlights, saving, he said, the bulbs. Three lanes, that road, passing a dare.  Always, the oncoming cars would flash the code for fear, but still…
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Patricia Q. Bidar

Stain Tom’s Firebird pulls into Alice’s street of windows lidded with wooden and peeked-through blinds. In the kitchen, Alice’s mother stops her dishwashing motions, then resumes. “See you,” Alice calls out and leaves to meet her supervisor. No … her…
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Laton Carter

What Would Marlene Do?   It was raining, so everything was perfect. I am Marlene Dietrich said the man. He was standing next to the window, and the rain, as rain is supposed to do, slid down the pane like…
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Kathryn Kulpa

Midnight Spoon   Midnight, and Frank is burying spoons again. He doesn’t know I dig them up, hours later, after I’ve put him in bed with his pills and sippy cup, after I’ve checked under the bed for CIA agents,…
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Alexis Wolfe

Ward Rounds I overhear one nurse telling another: she’s a strange old bird. They’ve no idea I used to be a real siren. Now I’m of an age where I mostly forget I’ve put stuff in the oven until the…
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