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.
by Alle C. Hall
She was eight and at the beach and she felt like a movie star.
by Jordana Jacobs
Inside the ovaries of my husband’s grandmother, Sylvie, resided an egg the size of a grain of sand that would have been Hannah, my brilliant and accomplished mother-in-law.
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.