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 Michael H. Brownstein Everything you wear, you wear to its grave, your gray stockings a small hole near the big toe, its color an undistinguished gray your shirt with a stain your pants frayed at the bottom, a rip in one pocket, change falling freely creating melodies you are…