Edie Sedgwick and the Dog that Could Not Forget Her by Kyle Hemmings
I’m waiting for Michael at the train station. How romantic to fall in love with a fellow mental patient. Did we have tentacles and talons?
Champagne Kiss by Andrew Stancek
When I open my eyes, Glinda is still gone. At the Parsons’ house the terrier is yapping, deranged again.
How to Say Goodbye by Cari Scribner
Ignore the pain. Feel it grow. Try to have the conversation. Avoid it for weeks.
The Great American Southwest by Nicholas Cook
My brother has two rocks so he gives me one. We shoot them across the red soil and they bounce like they’ve got some place better to be.
I See You by Sharon Eckman
Grace Savage arrives as the supermarket doors open on Christmas Eve morning. ‘Twice widowed, now shy,’ as she invariably describes herself, Grace browses the fruit and veg aisles, inspecting carrots and parsnips, furtively popping a green grape into her mouth.