by Laurel Miram
Pale yellow pads are best. They contrast well with black Sharpies. No one can miss a bumblebee.
by Christina Litchfield
We meet on a Monday. You hate Mondays because the weekend means car accidents and those are often tricky and unpleasant.
by Mark Schimmoeller
The wild plums are blooming. They have bloomed every April since the man moved into the woods.
by Tommy Dean
I might as well admit that I’m sinking. You know the joke about lifeguards drowning? Rip currents don’t care who they plunge to the bottom.
by Danielle Claro
Employing every classic device in the Grand Gesture toolkit, this work is a stellar model for students of the form.
by Lisa K. Buchanan
The mortician arrived last night, well before the viewing, to paint our little girl pretty.
by Laurie Marshall
You’ll check the mailbox one last time in case the whole thing was a sick joke.
by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
by Dino Parenti
One unremarkable March day, a man began puncturing random holes in his withered pasture with a post-hole digger.
by Tori Malcangio
In the dark, from my twin bed, I listen to Romy and her latest visitor in the sheets.