Please Do Not Smoke at the Funeral by Robert Shapard
My father came home a war hero, quiet and handsome in his leather flight jacket, with souvenirs—an enemy sword, a dented helmet.
Tiny House by Nancy Stohlman
After the rapture I decided to buy a tiny house. The realtor met me in the driveway.
Two Girls Contemplate What Gorillas Do at Night by Angela Readman
They stand outside the enclosure, just like last Thursday. Ever since her father won passes at work, Neko drags May to the zoo after school.
Matter of Time by Claire Polders
I dig up a lint ball from his belly button. Roll it between my fingertips.
Guilty by MJ McGinn
“You think he deserved it?” My kid brother shrugs at that and looks out the window which I figure is a yes.