by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
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Do Not Feed the Pigeons
by Gwenn A. Nusbaum Bobbing, in the language of hunger, they hover over what isn’t given.