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 M. Guendelsberger My brother Pete was the one to find it once that dry tape finally gave way and the photo drifted down to the black and white tile of my dead grandmother’s basement floor. We had been stacking the chairs on that table, flipping them upside down so…
by John Benner At the Lincoln Memorial, throngs of tourists in neon T-shirts streamed off buses, laughing and sometimes even singing as they surged up the steps to stare at the statue of the long-dead president until the oven-hot air tamed them into the sodden crowd that trudged back down…