Belmont station and it’s 2 a.m. and the father’s stranded out here somewhere in who the hell knows on his way back home, when it should have been a straight shot but has somehow taken him a good two hours to just end up getting lost like the sad-eyed dogs you’ll see tied up side of the highway sometimes and plus he’s starving, so bad it feels like pennies in his guts.
Though it is ill-advised, she looks back. How can she not? She looks back and sees the place of her life and her inside of it. Her and her brother rescuing the worms after rain. Moon shining in her dark wet hair, head leaning out the window, smelling the rosemary, smiling, saying goodnight.
And now you should say goodbye to the ones you love. Loop a pair of clouded binoculars around your neck. Pack a peanut butter sandwich and a rusty apple and a bottomless bottle of water.
In this installment of State of the Art, New Flash Fiction Review editors and recent contributors—those winning and commended in this year’s contest—share insights on their writing lives and processes.
Issue 30 features work by Shane Larkin, Fiona McKay, Donna Obeid, Jennifer Lai, Richard Holinger, Melissa Llanes Brownlee, Kathleen Latham, Lynn Powers, Elizabeth Fletcher, and JP Relph.