The Tabbies

by April Ford
These are cats of the developed world. Their litterboxes are freshened daily, which is the human luxury equivalent of taking a warm bath every day.

Raiders of the Lost and Found

by Mary Liza Hartong
My father would always play with other children at the pool. Not in a disturbing way, but just enough to make me jealous.

The Demulcent of Shame

by Jason Prokowiew
I’m sitting by the edge of a lake, waiting for my husband to come and tell me we’re over, that I’ve bamboozled him into our marriage, and he can’t stay in a relationship with a fraud.

You or Someone You Know

by B.A. Van Sise
I like the South. It’s America’s side porch: a great place to hang out, watch the world go by, stay dry when a rainstorm hits as you watch and whisper we needed this.

Lobotomy

by LaVie Saad
It’s a traditional house, because every morning when the sun rises, when sweet yellow rays reach to kiss our bronze skin through the hand-sewn curtains and double-paneled windows, they only find mine.

Bulimics Go to the Gas Station

by Chloe Cook
It’s Sunday, which means instead of eating in the cafeteria, one unlucky counselor (sorry, Jamie) must lead our small recovery circus to an undisclosed location for food.

Don’t Let Them See You

by Anonymous
I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.

Distance

by Treena Thibodeau
A week before the party, I text my newfound brother and sister about social distancing. The wording has to be right; I don’t want to sound uptight.

After That, Try This:

by Christiana Louisa Langenberg
Stare at your reflection in the storefront window. She looks familiar, you think.