The last time I had sex with my husband was when I brought an African Violet to his new apartment. Right in the middle we heard the dings of incoming texts; then the doorbell rang.
Melodie Wants the Moon by Kelsey Ipsen
It’s not that Melodie is strange in some way, really she just wants in the same way that everyone wants something. She’s turned magical in her obsession.
We Wonder by Yasmina Din Madden
We wonder about the man across the street for a long time. The way he hacks at his bushes with an axe, without rhyme or reason, without any sort of plan.
Scar Tissue by Sabrina Hicks
The night we played twenty-one questions, you asked me to tell you something real about myself then laughed and said, even though you have no heart.
Negotiations by Beckie Dashiell
It is a ghost who whispers in my ear at night: it’s not natural to share a bed with the same man for so long.
Lambda by Mandira Pattnaik
The night before my parents moved to Delhi, Lambda reclined on his armchair, bony legs like long strokes joined at the knee.
Tonight What Faces by Rick Bailey
I’m looking in the mirror, wondering if I can be an honest best man. Outside the October air is balmy. In the distance I hear lawnmowers.
Aftertaste by Susmita Bhattacharya
I surf cookery videos on YouTube. Watch how potato chips are fried. Follow the step-by-step of making hot, puffed up chapattis. I feed my cravings with my eyes only.
Used Hearse by Sandie Friedman
She bought the hearse used from the Highlands Funeral Home, and the first time she drove it home to show Patrick, she felt invulnerable.
Lady Gaga Considers the Shrimp Scampi by Steve Almond
There were fifty thousand little monsters screaming for an encore, Spaniards, Germans, skinny little French boys, Italians making wet sounds with their tongues.
Café Mozart Dreamin’ by Tracey Meloni
Judie bangs on my hotel door. “The dressmaker is here! Hurry! You have Christmas lunch with Noah at Café Mozart at 1PM!”
Initiation by Stuart Dybek
The doors snap open on Addison, and the kid in dirty hightops and a sleeveless denim jacket that shows off a blue pitchfork tattooed on his bicep jogs forward beneath a backward baseball cap and grabs the purse off a babushka’s lap.
Conversation in Hotel Lounge by Lydia Davis
Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation. I am walking through, on my way to my room.
Their Closet by Pamela Painter
“What are you thinking?” her husband asked her. In their twenty years of marriage he had never asked her that.