by Phyllis Carol Agins Five hours in the Mediterranean sun, and she’s not waiting for anything special. Not for finding lifetime love or even a quick affair after the end of her decades-long marriage. Hours walking and her feet hurt, even though she’s worn her sensible Birkies. She’s strolled through…
by Ashley O’Melia I squinted against the rain as I ran from the car to the old house. Thunder scraped across the clouds, hurrying me along. I fumbled with the key box on the front door, punching in the code my boss had given me. The code was easy to…
by Lenny Levine Vera Antonelli had never felt so happy, and so homicidal, to see anyone in her life. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she yelled at Simon Clark as he stumbled into the control room. “Why are you so late? We’re on the air in twenty…
by G. K. Nickless Where do dreams go to die? From my place at the dining room table overlooking the back yard, I can see tips of multiple, wet, warped and abandoned stakes protruding from the snow, scattered at intervals four feet wide by eight, twelve, fourteen, or sixteen feet…
by Raj Davis The clanging of bottles and glasses sound like the perfect symphony. Is there any better way to spend the evening than sipping on a Budweiser, crunching on cashews, while hearing the collective chatter of dozens of cops on a night after a long shift? Bill doubts there…
by Doris Ferleger Your bent elbow juts out. It is stiff and light and feels easily crushable against my hip as I walk around you. My body jerks away. I circle you at a distance of eighteen inches plus eighteen inches, the distance of each of our auras. Though maybe…
by Nancy Shobe Mom told me only twice in 53 years she loved me and wrote it to me only a handful of times. Born in Detroit but bred British, she had adopted the stiff-upper-lip approach of our “over the pond” ancestors. She masked emotions behind a stoic face. When…
by Elena Kaufman Iris Katz’s neighbor returned from six months in Florida to hear suspicious sounds coming through her adjoining wall—incessant scratching, barking, yelping—and the stench of something rotten. The women didn’t know each other except to say hello on the front walk. Mrs. Lowther told the men she was…
by Michael C. Keith You can’t stop being afraid just by pretending everything that scares you isn’t there. – Michael Marshall During the summer of my 11th year,…
by Teresa Burns Murphy As Tom Langston drove up the street where he lived in the suburban neighborhood of Kennerly, Arkansas known as Hawk Hills, he saw his recliner sitting on the curb in front of his house. He pulled his car into the driveway, jerked the gearshift into park,…