by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Burton Shulman Hannah was kneading his arm. It started hurting; Ike pulled it away. “What are you doing?” “Wondering how it would…taste.” Ike sat up. “Come again?” “Your arm.” He stared. “Are you hungry?” She turned away. “Hannah, this isn’t what usually passes for pillow talk. Maybe from here…