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Safe Zone

Safe Zone - story

Deakla Keydar

I wash my hands, scrubbing them. They still smell of shit. 1. Sophie went joyfully down the slide, straight into Danny’s waiting arms. When he offered to help her climb back up, she said, “By…

Glory

Glory - story

Lesley Nneka Arimah

When Glory’s parents christened her Glorybetogod Ngozi Akunyili, they did not foresee Facebook’s “real name” policy, nor the weeks she would spend populating forms and submitting copies of her bills and driver’s license and the…

Nothing Ruins a Good Story Like an Eyewitness

Nothing Ruins a Good Story Like an Eyewitness - story

Matt Cashion

You got it wrong, son. You exaggerated the wrong things and failed to exaggerate the right things. I know you’re supposed to know your business, but you wrote your story from a long way off…

The Lorry Driver’s Tale as told to Chris Cleave

The Lorry Driver’s Tale as told to Chris Cleave - story

Chris Cleave

 we aRen’T aT all like you. They keep us apart, for your protection. There’ll be a blue sign at the entrance to any ferry port or motorway services: you take this lane and we’ll take…

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…

Look at the Sky and Tell Me What You See

Look at the Sky and Tell Me What You See - story

Aimee LaBrie

I’m going to a funeral, and for the occasion, I’ve chosen a knee-length black Donna Karan dress (Flashy Trash, $15), black lace bra and panties, garter belt, sheer black stockings and brown snow boots with…

Let Go

Let Go - story

Lee Upton

For three years, lifetimes ago, I was an office manager at a credit agency. During those years, with one exception, I never fired anyone. Probably this was because everyone quit first. The pay was miserable,…

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…

Make Me Do Things

Make Me Do Things - story

Victoria Redel

Way over there, the boy could see them, in the deep end, his mother and the man his mother said he’d better stop calling Dan Dog. They were all the way over there, doing what…

The Amputated Arms

The Amputated Arms - story

Vilhelm Bergsøe

It happened when I was about eighteen or nineteen years old (began Dr. Simsen). I was studying at the University, and being coached in anatomy by my old friend Solling. He was an amusing fellow,…