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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. ...
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL RUINS
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 ...
NAME HER FOR HOPE —
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, ...
ARMBARS–IOWA CITY 1995
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, ...
CAPTAIN INVINCIBLE
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 ...
BAD QI
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 ...
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The way the two women walk six feet apart, one on the sidewalk and the other in the empty street = the way the body and the soul walk together ...
LIGHTING THE MATCH
All that winter we read Hannah Arendt, we read Men in Dark Times.
ARIANE
There’s this bizarro technique my doctor’s urging. It’s got a bunch of scientific terms that just sound to me like whatever whatever and no fucking way this is going to ...
DEATH AND LIFE AT YPRES, OCTOBER 1917 — BY SONNY TSIOPANI
Inevitably, implacably, the rain fell, its blanket mass a monsoon vehicle that swept across Ypres. It had been ceaseless for months, so much so, that you could not imagine a ...
FISH
After eight weeks at home, my daughter alternated between lethargy and irritability. Between sleeping and meltdowns, explosions of preadolescent rage that leveled the living room, kitchen, and shared bedroom of ...
CUTTING TREES
My brother and I are surgeons. We spend our days in the woods by our home, slicing the limbs from eighty-year-old relics, listening to the sounds of splitting wood and ...
That Man
You squint at me as though you are only properly seeing me now for the first time. I scour your room which is the palest of blues.
Seafaring in Minnesota
The wind blows cold and lonely off the prairie at night, hurtling along at ground level, then rising up, washing over the house.
Theophany
He was beautiful if you knew him, and could be a real bastard when he wanted to, and a lot of times when he didn’t.
The Shed
She takes to visiting the shed on a daily basis, constantly checking over her shoulder on the lookout for Lottie or James, hoping to snatch a couple of hours to ...
Irene, I’m Waiting
We come into this as helpless faucets of overflowing salt ducts, eager and scampering, exhausting profusely to make sense yet never availing, barely scratching.
In The White House
My father has always said we’re not Americans. Americans have presidents. We don’t. We were carted over here from a land far away and don’t know the way back, but ...
The Saffron Lover
This morning when Walter tumbled off a beribboned donkey halfway up the steep cobblestone path from the port to Fira he was embarrassed.
Performance
But it wasn’t really a laugh. It was more like an ambulance siren than a laugh, all shrill and constant and loud, going “Ha ha ha” in a computer’s perfect ...