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Buy Two Get One Free

Buy Two Get One Free - story

Tal Nitzán

In my other life I lived in a suburb of Ohio or Michigan with Paul-Marc, my husband, and the child. The houses were planted on manicured lawns that stretched as far as the eye could…

Summer

Summer - story

Natalia Ginzburg

I was away from my children for a while. They’d gone to the seaside with my sister and my mother, I stayed in the city, my mother was angry at me because I wrote and…

Blue Pill

Blue Pill - story

Orly Castel-Bloom

When I think back on it, I feel like digging a hole in the ground and crawling right in. I want to crawl right in this minute, so I’m thinking back on it. Someone once…

Coffee

Coffee - story

Gadi Taub

My father died at six in the evening. After the doctor told us the news, we went home. Ariane drove, and I sat next to her. Neither of us spoke. The taste of the coffee…

The Thief

The Thief - story

Sharron Hass

The last item on the shopping list was bread. Two o’clock in the afternoon. August. And the insistence to walk all the way to the bread shop. Specification is the sign of affluence and civilization;…

Your Microwave

Your Microwave - story

Philipp Schönthaler

Date: Mon, August 19 20:41:42-0700 (PDT) From: Henry To: Customer service Re: Your microwave To whom it may concern, I’m writing to you regarding a matter that may seem trivial, even irrelevant at first glance,…

One Minute Stories

One Minute Stories - story

István Örkény

Autumn Translated by Mark Baczoni Sylvester Gács, a forester with the North Hungarian Forestry Service, patrolled the woods (every tree of which he knew by heart), doing the rounds of the pathways he himself had…

Possible Paths

Possible Paths - story

Margarita Iov

I write: Vera’s coat has a button missing – the dog got it. She looks over my shoulder. One day he’ll get me, too, says Vera, you’ll see. I say: Don’t be silly. The dog…

The Dancer

The Dancer - story

Yehudit Hendel

I used to meet him sometimes in the street or in the park opposite my house. Over the years we became friends in a way, and he would nod to me as old friends do,…

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man - story

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

A Fantastic Story Chapter I I am a ridiculous person. Now they call me a madman. That would be a promotion if it were not that I remain as ridiculous in their eyes as before….

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