Issue 29

She’d gotten the fun house mirrors at an auction and had them put up in the spare bedroom.

“What are you thinking?” her husband asked her. In their twenty years of marriage he had never asked her that.

There were fifty thousand little monsters screaming for an encore, Spaniards, Germans, skinny little French boys, Italians making wet sounds with their tongues.

Grandma gets her episodes at least once a month. She’ll grow out her jaws and if it happens on a rainy day, claws will tear out of her fingers.

Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation.  I am walking through, on my way to my room.