Boilermaker by JW Goll
Butchie and I drive north on Water Street, heading into a sunrise that warns us to keep on our toes, this could be the day it all goes to hell.
A Girl Shaves Her Head by Ruth Joffre
One by one, the hairs grow back fuchsia and periwinkle, grow like thistle and sea urchins, surging back short as lichen and tall as sunflowers.
Bittersweet by Lorette C. Luzajic
It was never easy going back. The gloom was as thick as the damask drapery, and their enormous dusty tassels seemed symbolic somehow, ornamental bonds.
Odd Job Jane by Lorette C. Luzajic
Mission: to rid winter of imps and karakondžula. I had no idea what the sign meant, but I applied. I needed work.
You can’t miss something if it comes back by Frankie McMillan
My sister said she was coming back as a bird, that way she’d be able to see what was happening from above, be able to see our house, me dawdling to school