Out on the front patio of the old coffee shop — they meet here every day, discussing their backs and their wives and the minutiae of their lives. One older ...
I drove a different way, the last time, taking a road that turned out not to be a road at all, wherein I mean it began as a road and ...
I would question the sanity of anyone who’s not questioning their own sanity nowadays, Doctor, but this patient of mine — Patient Z, let’s call him — put even me ...
Mama lets the paddling pool water spill onto the grass. That’s how the neighbors’ kids know it’s time to go home.
I could hear them every day. Sometimes they sounded like little horses cantering around on the warehouse’s rooftop. Hooves reverberating on metal sheets. Their calls weren’t what I expected, a ...
Cortes looked out through the moonlit night, out across the steaming ground, out across the glistening earth, out upon the bodies that lay and lay and lay in the courtyard.
The weather had turned for the better since the last night. She had retired to her room when he arrived at half past ten. So early! He was astonished. She ...
It’s terrible, you see they’ve started using paper bags at the supermarket. Brown paper bags. Well it didn’t take me long to figure out that this presented an unprecedented opportunity. ...
As a teen, I was obsessed with my knickers, whether to allow boys into them and getting them in a twist. My mother instilled in me the importance of ensuring ...
She had been collecting supplies for some time: fabric, yarn, scissors, and glue. Strong glue. She needed this to hold together.
All the zines were printed at Lehman Brothers. All the zines were printed at Goldman Sachs. All the zines were printed at Merrill Lynch.
In March, the snow melted, and the lake thawed, and we had to watch as these bloated bodies full of holes and pond scum all rose up from where the ...
She watches the pond from the front of the house. Upstairs. Her bedroom. In a pause between painting, where her brush wilts in the bottom of a green glass (a ...
Theo II’s ghost haunts me most nights, ever since I found him hanging in the stables, an ending that no doubt hastened the death of my grandfather—Sir Theo—a week later. ...
In this short piece, Brazilian novelist and short-story writer, Carol Bensimon, posits the life of a pool man after the virus has wrecked the tourism industry and the rich have ...
I was born at 6:04 p.m. on the 3rd day of the Moon’s skulking journey across the skylands. She is a child of Krithika, the temple priest tells my mother, ...
As I’d begun to do lately, get out paper, my stack of comics from under the bed. I start drawing.
Jittery, a twiddling, nerve-pulling runway, touch-down, to pencil scratching, scratching, then, ...
Papa’s blood runs hot, a carryover from the Sicilian sun, Mama says. Temperatures rise, and storms brew, feeding off the latent heat. The fury of God in man. Our lot ...
I was sitting in the rail station waiting for the 10:30 to London when a mother with two small children sat beside me, her daughter wedged between us. The girl ...
He licks her big toe, glides his tongue across the arch of her foot, softens the cracked and toughened skin of her heel with warm saliva, and then presses his ...
