by Tracy Lyall Songs of 70s rock stars are fading, with old albums—vinyl records in colorful covers stacked on top of each other, thirty, forty at a time—lying dormant in a thrift-store window display. The roller rink is closed down, wooden floors scratched by skate wheels, molding and mildewing. The…
by Lisa Harris Perhaps you see a globe: You think, a world is round; a world spins. Continents are misshapen feet, and all around them lies blue water, the color of a Scandinavian’s eyes. Perhaps you see a million faces, a blur of non-photogenic humanity, a smear of intention, like…
By Hali Morell “Can I ask you one more thing?” It’s the last three minutes of my psychic reading, and I have been saving it for last…out of both fear and denial. My hands are clenched, and I’ve stopped inhaling the fresh summer air blowing through the coffee shop. A…