Photo Story: Life in Movies
By Richard EdenfieldWe liked to mash up the entire box of Junior Mints into one big ball. Make it into the Death Star and eat it like Jedi Knights.
Required Summer Reading
By Kimberly TolsonMy grandma kept her pocket paperback romance novels in the scary spare room on the second floor, directly to the right of the J-shaped staircase, the one we’d ride down on the old dishwasher box.
Calling Mom Home
By Elizabeth BoquetI call my mom once a year, on the day she died. Five times I have pulled up “Mom Home” in my contacts. Five times I have pressed the phone icon.
Invite Him In, Ask For Help
By Simon JimenezThe 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 ConcepciónBefore 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 ChernA 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 RamseyHannah's motorcycle fishtails on wet pavement before she goes down. This is it.
Photo Story: Cutting Lines
By Kathryn PallantIt was her father’s favorite station: polished marble, vaulted ceiling, windows straight from a mansion house. Just like the best library he ever went to, but never had time for until the end.
Backyard Aristotle
By Leonard KressIn this morning’s backyard drama the tiny green bird has crashed into the glass of the sliding door and lies feet up and claw-splayed on the brick patio.
The Life & Times of Minor Characters
By Gretchen TessmerMary Ann had a thrilling day planned—wash basin full of dirty dishes, assorted soap-making and two dozen rabbit-sized waistcoats to iron out.
Lilly (My One and Only)
By Kaj Tanaka—sunset like the head of that grotesque peeping tom you told me about the night I understood we would never belong together...
Photo Story: Breaking Point
By Melinda McCamantThe view is better now, a verdant hillside shattered, not one crimson setting sun but hundreds, the dusty smell of late summer drifting in.
