The White Album

By Lee Romer Kaplan
9,000 miles from their Galilean childhood, Amir drove North bearing gifts: white hydrangea from his seaside garden, and his version of the girl she’d been.

Your Wait Time Will Be a Figure Eight

By Todd Mercer
Should you die while stuck on Hold, your confused spirit can loop indefinitely within the phone tree. Hold music continues unabated? You’re already in Hell.


By Guinotte Wise
She lives in a stark house on flat prairie. No furniture. Her biplane is parked nearby. I don't think she has a self-preservation gene.

The Main Attraction

By Charles Wilson
The bluebird wore yellow rain-boots and carried a red umbrella. In the old days, you could find him on the roof of the goat-barn dancing a jig and wearing a thimble for a hat.

Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story

By David Joez Villaverde
You could say we tried. Got sober together. He was younger. I let him love me despite better judgement. He moved to Syracuse for me.

Photo Story: Together, They Leave the World

By Zac Medema
I raise my phone and press record, immortalizing the ugliness. In moments the whole world will see.

Night Jobbed

By D.G. Lott
Can NOT be here tonight! … Stuck teaching fucking irregular verbs! … My girl playing in the final! … And a captain!!

Under the Piano

By Roberta Beary
The piano’s shawl hides me. Mom comes in and turns on the record player. Famous Opera Arias. Her favorite. The love seat’s plastic squishes when she sits down.

A Brand of Modern Black Women

By Hafsa Musa
Kinky hair coiled into four silky dollops on her head, bantu knots recalling an African diaspora like upraised fists and military berets and black bodies channeling latent prophesies.

Dumped: Four Stories by Molly Giles

By Molly Giles
It was a good divorce. They each took one of the cars and one of the labradoodles; they divided the silver, antiques, and paintings, put the house up for sale, agreed to split the proceeds, and were shaking hands goodbye when they heard a musical tinkle from the garden.

The Wedding Night

By Jayne Martin
Her knee slammed into the night table as she struggled to sit up. Outside, fog horns 
bellowed like beasts in search of their mates...


By Nancy Stohlman
The scissors slide easily through the thick denim of my favorite blue jeans, from ankle to waist, ankle to waist, as one leg then the other falls away.