The Lineup

By Michele Berger
Ricky drags Derek, out of his hiding place, into the lineup with the other neighborhood boys.

You Couldn’t Wait to Leave This Town

By Jennifer Handley
Concrete steps rise from pebbly cracked sidewalks, but go, absurdly, nowhere. Into the boards of a fence, or the sunless dirt beneath a low tree limb.

Rolling

By Dzvinia Orlowsky
Late August, a cat rolling in mown grass flips to its back again, then to its feet, half sun-drunk, half whiplash tail. I am loved. Not. Am.

Passing Lane

By M.J. Iuppa
Sally was the twin who took chances. A cherry-lipped brunette with a Louise Brook’s bob, she turned heads in traffic.

Photo Story: The Abominable

By Michael Snyder
Lucy could bend even the smallest rays of light to her will. She created her own humidity, burrowed deep, and made dormant things grow.

Sherrie Flick: Finding Truth in Compression

Why did we interview Sherrie Flick? First, we loved Sherrie Flick’s recent story collection, Whiskey, Etc. Second, we’ve heard a lot of great things about Sherrie from others in the flash fiction community, such as, "Wow, you have to read Sherrie Flick's flash," and "She's an amazing food writer." Third, we wished we would have asked her questions about Pittsburgh, but fortunately she told us about a road trip she’d have with Gertrude Stein.

Sweetie Pie

By Sherrie Flick
I started calling both my dog and husband Sweetie Pie the same year my husband found my lover’s cashmere sock.

Salient Sounds

By Connor Walsh
Back when I was young enough to invent and trust in my own Boy Scout knot, I tied a tape-recorder to a turtle’s shell and set it free.

Invite Him In, Ask For Help

By Simon Jimenez
The zipper began at the nape of her neck. With thumb and forefinger, he pulled, slow, drawing out the sound of the unraveling of caught teeth.

Photo Story: Imaginary Number

By Shara Concepción
Before the necktie hung itself, a knot doing unto me what the body did; before the engine, fuel wound, light, I was the instrument and the song, un-living on the vocal cord of God, an imaginary number on a line I couldn’t see.

Great Composers of the American Popular Song

By Lina Chern
A window opens on a forest: trees, moonlight, a path. You’ve been here before: the knot in a pine becomes a long-lost face, the veil of leaves a scarf of blue silk.

The Evergreen

By Tara Ramsey
Hannah's motorcycle fishtails on wet pavement before she goes down. This is it.