It was so nice. He actually cuddled me. He thought I needed one, that’s what he said, so I sidled up to him. We were on the ground at this point.
In Andy’s Arms by Pamela Banayoti
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Issue #10
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.
That Cupola Lying on Its Side and Covered in Vines by Charles Rafferty
George had never seen that gray shed behind the Busak’s house tucked into some forsythia. He considered whether it might be new, but the shed seemed too at home among the branches.
Birdie by Nuala O’Connor
For a heavy woman, I have oddly slender and agile fingers. These help when I pick out Chopin’s mazurkas.
A Few Words with My Recently Very Dead Brother by Grace Campbell
Hold up, because you didn’t say I promise, Janey. You never said I Promise. Did you do that on purpose?
Unwritten Diary of Impossible Probability by Tony Eprile
My irretrievably lost lover was found frozen in a blazing coal burner.
Hands by Colleen Maynard
Confronted with the responsibility of viewing the body, it’s good to have as many small tasks to do.
Sadness, the Adulterer by Jonathan Cardew
At 7:00pm, on the dot, the adulterer closes the boutique, locking the heavy wooden door and turning to face the snow.
When the Sun is the Moon by Christopher DiCicco
When Tiffany Stills walks into a room, most of us pretend not to notice, but we do. She’s that pretty, and I’m kind of sick of pretending she’s not.
Golden Curls by Rhoda Greaves
I did a bad thing once. Not like they all thought though. Not bad like that.
Seven Starts to The Man Who Loved Trees by Frankie McMillan
Jazz Novitz is my name. I’m the hitch hiker who was kidnapped, forced to live in a tree. People remember my name, what with all the z’s.