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…
by Laura Grace Weldon Air is soft here fluffed silk against skin, each seam lying just so. Here the heft of a Yale ring, shoes that must be Italian, a wristwatch pricier than two years of her wages. Frayed cuffs turned under a decades-old shirt, cheap even when new, mark…