How To Fetch Water from a Well When You Only Have an Office Chair to Hand by Jude Higgins
When the men come to my house for the last time, they cut off all the services and take everything apart from my swivel chair.
The Lies that Grow in the Flames by Shelly Jones
They say that I was burned, that a Roman statesman ordered my destruction with his words, screaming them into the Mediterranean winds, salt crusting his beardless face.
Until the Aye-aye by Ara Hone
If I called the authorities once, I called them dozens of times about the Aye-aye.
Grandma by L. Soviero
Mom said Grandma never stood a chance. Because a name’s a shove. And when Mrs. Shapiro introduced Grandma Leary to our junior high class, the new girl was shoved into a room of cruel expressions.
When Christmas Shows Up by Francine Witte
When Christmas shows up, first one without you, we leave your chair empty.