My Mother in the Floorboards by Leonora Desar
My mother said she would haunt me. And she did. She haunted. She haunted in the floor.
Los Muertos by Tommy Dean
The car—a black shadow—not there a second before, weaved drunkenly toward the mailbox, before eclipsing the end of their driveway, veering toward the other side of the road.
The Easy Way by Michelle Ross
All their life together, his wife has denounced the gadgets he’s acquired. The pole that extends to sweep ceiling cobwebs: they own a ladder.
She’s the morning after the night before feeling by Laura Tansley
In February we got a new roommate, her name was Fiona.
Climax by Traci Skuce
Marilyn is in her office, on the floor, yoga mat spread beneath her, engaging her psoas.