Photo Story: Taillights

By Jimmy Leonard
We’re forty minutes outside of Sacramento when traffic crawls to a stop. Luggage racks, loose clothes, dogs yipping out windows.

Stained Lips

By Jan Elman Stout
She dabs her lips with Faithful Fawn. He hovers behind, runs his fingers through his graying hair, eyes fixed on his reflection. How do I look? Her mouth forms a perfect “O,” presses shut.

Full Cold Moon

By Gay Degani
They bear witness, the girl and the supermoon, pinned to different worlds. She studies the ocean, chin on knees, toes buried in cooling sand...

Child’s Play

By Melanie Bui Larsen
The first thing we noticed after breaking into his room was the mess. Mounds of clothing and food wrappers rose like rock formations.

An Addition to the Fami...

By Lavanya Vasudevan
They smell the same, your woman and child, drenched in the sweet of milk and the salt of sweat.

Candymen

By Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri
Matthew and his sister throw Junior Mints at the movies. It’s their childhood ritual, a ritual recently reclaimed.

Aches and Pains

By Lora Kilpatrick
We sit on ash heaps, picking our scabs. We’ve learned not to feel the hunger or pain anymore.

Photo Story: Senaida

By Shara Concepción
First came the missionaries, their soft limbs sifting debris; their sloughing faces beading saltwater, full of want for remembrance. Gone, the clamor of rebuilding.

You Gotta Know Your Ter...

By Paul Beckman
I called my wife from the road and told her that the sales were slow and I was going to cross the state line into Nebraska and try to open some new territory and we exchanged I love yous...

School Run

By Lucy Goldring
force children buggy bags through front door walk fast walk faster break into jog point out dog shit are we late mum no it’s fine just haven’t got time to spare…

Photo Story: Unschedule...

By Kathryn Kulpa
This was before the buses stopped running. An article had come out saying cinnamon oil killed the virus and now people doused themselves.

Cubist Mother

By Michelle Ross
When I found my mother throwing dishes at the mortar wall behind our house, she said only, “I forgot these once belonged to my mother.”