Waiting for time to catch up by Rosie Garland
When he goes downstairs, his mother is not in the kitchen. She’s not in the bathroom or the yard.
Distance by Natalie Teal McAllister
Per the arrangement, their indefinite work-from-home statuses, they are required to sign documents outlining their necessary functions, their necessary hours, their necessary communications.
Empties by Kathleene Donahoo
Where are they, those bike-men in their tight bright shirts? This time of day they’re always here on the sidewalk outside the sandwich shop.
Surveillance by Nuala O’Connor
Putin looks at me with love, then lunges and bites my finger, his sharp little teeth vising my skin.
Heart-wrenching by Rick Krizman
In the ‘60s—the 1960s not the 2060s—it was said that all you needed to fix any Detroit car was a half-inch wrench.