by Douglas W. Milliken
Mum died in the last days of October, leaving—among other things—a lot of fall-time chores incomplete.
by Lauren Lynn Matheny
Whatever the color, there had been a balloon. There had been a boy. And there had been a fall.
by Angie Ellis
I keep a list of songs I know well, so that if I get dementia people can reach the real me hidden inside my broken brain.
by Lori Nevole
My first girlfriend was Catholic, and thought no one would know she was a lesbian if she kept up a great manicure.
by Tommy Dean
We’re lying in the middle of a cracked country road, fireflies blinking a message we’re too human to understand.
by Betsy Porter
She would be devastated if something happened to him—a car accident, for example, it’s entirely possible.
by Rebecca Foust
If Pastor Dale’s deer-stand was built as a place from which to squeeze a hair trigger, it also ladled up a grand view of the valley below, thick with hickory, sycamore, and elm.
by Jen Bergmark
Technically, you needed only one eye to take a photo, but you needed the other to see.
by Lee Martin
Over the next few weeks, a series of strange and unsettling incidents occurred. On more than one night, Glory was jarred from sleep by angry shouts coming from across the street.
by Benjamin Thomas
There’s a piano player in the restaurant on the night Zoe tells you she’s pregnant.