The house we lived in the Fall was the one the guests used in the Winter. Papa said we had to come here to get the place ready.
Shit Animals by D.R. Wagner
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Issue #6
Spring Flowers by Cori Jones
One day when she was looking for something in the medicine cabinet, she found a stick of eyeliner on the top shelf. It lay against the back, one of his old prescription bottles almost hiding it.
One-Shop Style by Kayla Thomas
The sales people tell me what I need is a statement coat, that in a Sea Of Neutrals this red coat will be an Outfit-Maker, A Diamond In The Rough.
The Last Orgasm by Nin Andrews
What you have long suspected is true. I know. It happened to me on April 11, 2013, a Sunday. My husband served me coffee and croissants in bed. Ada, the terrier, joined us and snuggled beneath the covers.
Three Micros by Nicholas Cook
He hands me a scrabble dictionary. He wants me to squawk words at him in the middle of the night. We sit on his mother’s couch.
Back Then and Now by David James
Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
Dearly Departed by James Claffey
The porridge oats soaked overnight in the double broiler and sat on top of the cold Aga range.
Where You Left Her by Paul Asta
She lived three blocks over. Four houses down. Played the violin for the past sixteen years and hated it. Earlier she had asked you if you could curl your lips Chicago Style and you tried desperately to imagine what exactly that would look like.
We Might Be in New York Already by Maggie Su
We are making mountains out of molehills again, we tell ourselves the morning after. But the night before, in the alleyway behind the gay bar beneath a KFC, we breathe in air like it might slip, sands through an hourglass.
Wilson Dreams of Banana Peels by Gail Louise Siegel
In my son’s old room (my office), the original Les Miserables playing in French, trying to work myself up to a little scribbling.
Ash by Margaret Bentley
One. My husband wonders why at 48, I have begun to smoke from time to time. It is difficult to explain, so I do not try.
Seniors at the Movie by Kelly Cherry
Hey, isn’t that the guy who was in?
That movie called?
That’s it. He’s married to?
3 January by Ashley Chantler
Steve frowns and pours another scotch. He’s trying to work out the best way to finish with Megan and it’s doing his head in.