Wrestling with Dust
byWHEN THE WORKMEN ARRIVE AT SEVEN ON MONDAY MORNING, THEY FIND SISTER DOLORES, IN FULL HABIT, CHAINED TO THEIR BULLDOZER. It isn’t the first time, either. She was here on…
Stories
I Smell Death on You
byI WAS AT MY DOCTOR’S OFFICE FOR MY YEARLY CHECKUP. My doctor wore a salt and pepper beard, a stainless steel stethoscope, and a shimmering red tie that glinted like…
A Product of Intense Deliberation
byDear Michael, No, too formal. Mike. Well, I call him that. I’ve been calling him that for a few months now, no big deal. He doesn’t seem to mind. But,…
No Place Like Ventura
bySHE HAD BLUE HAIR AND STAINED TEETH. Was it coffee? Cigarettes? Who knows. They were perfect. Every morning she’d plaster makeup on her face and the sun would bounce off…
Burning Boxes
byTHE BOXES KEEP COMING. Long, casket-shaped cardboard leaning on the front steps. Palm-sized squares in the mailbox. Brown rectangles sprouting on the walkway. Shannon is never sure when they will…
Midnight Ribeye
byYOU BALANCE READILY AT THE RIFT’S EDGE, toes of your climbing shoes hanging above the misty abyss. Before the world split open (and surprise, it was flat all along), climbing…
The Taster
byMY FRIEND HAD HEARD OF EMPLOYMENT FOR ME WITH AN IRISHMAN WHO HAD SHOT UP IN THR WORLD, a man who owned horsecars and was a Sixth Ward alderman hopeful….
Winter
byMY MOTHER SAYS MY EYES WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. How can they be? The flash of the headlights would be the last thing I’d see in maybe… forever? I…
Revisions
byTHANK YOU. Thank you, everyone. The reason I’ve asked you all here today is because we have a very important announcement to make. Where do I start. Okay, so, as…
This is the Way We Wash Our Clothes
bySOMETHING BAD HAS HAPPENED IN THE FAMILY. Sylvia knows this because Mom is on the phone, whispering things in Spanish like “como puede ser?” (how can this be?) and “hermanita”…