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 Susan M. Gelles
They heard the shots, and the cheers, and every Saturday night they drank to celebrate the everlasting strength of the regime.
by Mary Liza Hartong
Winter was still holding onto spring like a child who refuses to leave her blanket at home.
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.
by Alle C. Hall
She was eight and at the beach and she felt like a movie star.