He wakes to the room spinning, a full bladder, and the scent of lavender.
Lavender by Adam Lock
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Issue #14
The Slow-Motion Divorce by Craig Loomis
When asked what room they wanted—seaside, garden view, “How about a view of the mountains? Very popular, the mountains.
My Best Man by John Mancini
I had the ring. All I had to do was stand there and put it on Deb’s finger. But when the day finally came, I knew I wasn’t ready.
A Lobster Walks Into a Laundromat by Jayne Martin
None of the women could recall when the lobster first appeared, his large claws clacking against the floor as he folded his laundry along with the rest of them.
Down at Al’s Pool Hall by Robert Garner McBrearty
I keep waiting for good news. But no one calls. No one knocks on the door. Maybe tomorrow.
Girls in Bars by Aimee Parkison
She’s Flor de Caña, simple syrup, and freshly squeezed limes. I’m American moonshine and RumChata.
Smart Kid by Arthur Plotnik
Nick Pearson loved his smart house. At his command the smart-fridge checked the ingredients on its shelves and suggested three dinners for this evening.
The Girl Who Eats Lightbulbs by Helen Rye
The girl who eats lightbulbs, she sits alone in the bus shelter with the red velvet hatbox full of the feathers she’s rescued, the white and the silken, pure from the dirt of sidewalks and showgrounds.
Horse Walks into the Bar by Joel Streicker
I’d like to say a horse walks into the bar, but it’s really only a guy in a horse costume. Still, it’s not something you see every day, or every night, even on Halloween, which it isn’t.
The Difference Between Alligators and Crocodiles by Cathy Ulrich
You call it a honeymoon. The right rear passenger window of our car is broken out. We’ve covered it with plastic wrap. I hear it rustle as you drive.
The Suitor by Anna Vangala Jones
Straightening the place settings and adjusting chairs is not enough to occupy her distracted mind.
How Not to Become an Expat by Kara Vernor
Fly to Costa Rica on a one-way ticket. Don’t think about the reasons you’re leaving, not now as your city shrinks beneath you. Now, you are a free bird.
Sweet Violets by A.E. Weisgerber
I remember the warm scent of pine needles, white pine, sienna golden and fragrant thick on the ground, that warm wood held in its air the promise of wreaths and garlands and snow.
Wedding Cake Farm by Francine Witte
Uncle Astor had a wedding cake farm. Aunt Lula was against it at first. Folks don’t want a cake from out of the ground, she said. But Uncle Astor proved her wrong.
No Business Being Spectacular by Tara Isabel Zambrano
There’s a darkness growing in her stomach. The windows remind her of her imperfect dimensions, she has no business being spectacular like the ocean ahead of her.