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…
By William Worsham I have spent most of the meaningful years of my life being a father. So I only do what I know. I tell you, “Go this way!” Or that. You go your imprudent way through subsistence somehow despite me. You drift along, a leaf upon a sidewalk…
By William Worsham “When trying to write good fiction, we should always ask ourselves, ’What would Lorrie do?’”—William Worsham “If I put in a quotation from myself about my own work, does that make me self-absorbed?”—William Worsham “Humor is really part of the fabric of human discourse—it may be deflective…