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Leaving the Meadows

Leaving the Meadows - story

Megan Staffel

Two people came through the double glass doors of a twelve-story brick building and walked along the chain link fence to the parking lot. The tall, gray-haired man guided the short, white-haired woman by her…

The Problem with Moving

The Problem with Moving - story

Jessica Hollander

 One move leads to another move, and nowhere feels as good as you want it to feel; your childhood feels wrong, and this place feels wrong, and the next place feels wrong, and so you…

Words to Live By

Words to Live By - story

Aimee LaBrie

He’s confused. Too shy. His sister died of leukemia when he was thirteen. He’s not over his wife yet. He’s intimidated by your sarcastic sense of humor. You’re smarter than he is and he can’t…

You Are the Bad Smell

You Are the Bad Smell - story

Kathy Anderson

“This isn’t the one,” she said, laying her hand on my arm. As if she was really sorry. “Stick a fork in me. I’m done,” I said. “No. You’re just upset. You thought this was…

Astronomical Objects

Astronomical Objects - story

Liz Prato

My lover’s fingers are long. When he stretches them out, they bow in the middle. When they bend, he can span five frets. He sits on the wide window sill, the guitar resting on his…

Waiting

Waiting - story

Jessica Treat

He comes into the café, eyes peering over his glasses, obviously in search of someone. And then because I am sitting with only time in front of me— Are you—? I nod. He hasn’t said…

Uno

Uno - story

Eileen Pollack

The first time Heloise saw Mitch, he was standing beside the vending machines in the hospital cafeteria, angular and fresh in his puckery clean white scrubs. She had come in for a Coke and chips,…

Too Huge

Too Huge - story

Kate Hill Cantrill

I made a request of no crying, for I had the grand task of handling the cat. No crying, I said. Do whatever it takes to wait until I’ve gone. He agreed to blame his…

Riding to the Shore

Riding to the Shore - story

Liz Prato

Ginny stood on the counter of the diner decorated in tinfoil. She’s my wife, if you want to call her that, which I do. She’d made bracelets and earrings and a fake-fancy necklace by folding…

The Migrating Wall

The Migrating Wall - story

Karen Brennan

 There was a wall of Ruth and Sam’s house that bordered the neighbor’s bed of ivy. These neighbors allowed the ivy to spread unchecked. It crawled up the wooden fence and weighed it down so…