Colson Whitehead wins Pulitzer in Fiction.
Mike Huckabee defends funding the NEA. Believe it or not.
Trump proposed budget targets the arts.
Bridges of Madison County author Robert James Waller dead at 77.
B&N had a red Christmas.
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A Boyfriend History in 10 Flavors

by Laura Golden Bellotti

Our ten-year age difference seemed vast to me, not to him. It was lunch—our daily lunches at the small French restaurant across the street from our office—that bridged the gap.

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Guitar Lessons

by Roxanne Lynn Doty

If anybody follows me call 911. I live in apartment 12 but don’t go there if somebody stalks me. I should stay in a public place like Taco Bell or Walgreens.

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Down in the Station

by Seth Sawyers

In the station a black woman with thick braids played the cello. I thought she was good, but I don’t know if she really was good, because what do I know about the cello?

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Rabbit Suit

by Julia Lynn Rubin

When I look at the sky, I don’t see color. The man in the rabbit suit doesn’t either. I know this because I asked him one summer, when the air smelled like burning pavement.

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Superman

by Emile DeWeaver

A mother-of-pearl mirror-stand, rolled rugs from Damascus, and other brick-a-brac from when I went through my I’m-gay-but-proud-to-be-Syrian bullshit fill the shadows in my garage.

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Orbiting, Day 271

by Bradley Potts

“There is a 2.43% probability of survival. How would you like to proceed, Jay?” Blue Jay, flutter and fly, away from the crows. That gloating, hateful blue engulfs my tiny window.

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Puddles Like Pillows

by Suzanne Conboy-Hill

Things began disappearing round about March. Just little things—a newspaper left on a bench, or a sandwich wrapper—and not blown away or tumbled into a corner, just gone.

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Columbus Road

by David Buchanan

It got to the point that I just didn’t want the other guys to even see her. Sharing—a tent, a cockpit, a shower—gets old during a deployment, and I wished she would stay away.

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Counting

by Jodi Barnes

Often she dreams she doesn’t get into her dead boyfriend’s car. She dances solo in her stupor and calls her mother who’d promised, “I’ll pick you up; no questions asked.”

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