by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
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Conjuring Bread From Earth
By Pamela Wax —for Rob …at the still point, there the dance is. — T.S. Eliot There you are, baking breadbefore sunrise, kneadingits knots and sinews like a masseuse.You divine the dough’s perfect balancebetween a big-belly Buddhaand a contortionist, nudging…