I usually took the bus, but one day my parents said they’d come to get me. We lived far out on a farm, and they were always working. That morning, …
Worn-Out Fabric • Meg Tuite
A man lived with less than a quarter of his brain. He kissed his wife and kids goodbye every weekday and went to work. No one noticed anything was missing …
I Scream, You Scream • Amy Rossi
Cindy was seventeen when she developed a no-musician rule, too young to have it carry a real sense of threat, but heart-bruised nonetheless by the drummer who passed through her …
Up Ahead’s Another Town That I’ll Go Walking Through • Lori Sambol Brody
Opal reaches across the cocktail table and clinks her bottle of Coors against mine. “Forty is the new thirty!” she says and I force a smile but really, why did …
A Real Boyfriend • Brian Alan Ellis
A real boyfriend will get blackout drunk and use the inside of your car as a urinal. A real boyfriend can be described in only two ways: worst boyfriend and …
The Only Man in the Whole Room • Robin Bacigalupo
Before Downtown went to shit, a bunch of us used to work maintenance over at the Eastern Columbia building. There was no one there loved his job more than …
M is for Mercy • Joe Kapitan
As the new personal assistant to the great El Misericordioso, I’ve come to learn a secret. He spends his weekends visiting homes for the aged throughout Veracruz. I suppose Señor …
Service • Alice Kaltman
Betty said it would be a nifty way to make a buck. She’d been car hopping up in Bakersfield and was raking it in. The whole drive-in concept seemed loony. …
Dumb and Dumber • Pia Ehrhardt
For ten years my stepsons made sure their mother and I didn’t cross paths at hockey games, debate tournaments, their senior ring masses. My husband didn’t speak to his ex-wife. …
Mad Ruin • Beth Gilstrap
Olivia had her rituals to quiet the noise: running her hands over each leg to get her hosiery just so, only side-glancing at herself in the mirror once she was …
“The World Is Made of Words and Pictures” by Girija Tropp
My pencil case is missing. It will turn up in a rearrangement of the universe, but my brain keeps fussing the small things. It is midnight when I take a …
“Crush,” by Audra Kerr Brown
There are no practice rooms in the old band building, so they use Mr. Hammond’s office for private lessons, the walls cushioned with foam to dampen the noise. The room …
“Ghost Dog” by Danielle Lazarin
When Owen shows me the photograph of the ghost dog, I say, “That’s a toy,” but I don’t laugh at him. I’m sitting in his desk chair in his room. …
“New Bike” by William Lessard
My father was always doing something nuts. He rammed his car into the house after getting into a fistfight with another waiter. He came home drunk and cooked everything in …
“The Walkman,” by Michael Seymour Blake
“Come on, Grandpa, get up,” I said. Grandpa didn’t budge. He’d been sitting on that ratty, brown armchair for years. I tried once a day, then every few days, and …
“E – A – D – G – B – E ” by Bud Smith
I even slept with my prized guitar in my hands. How much I loved it. But while I was in the shower Dan Riccard snuck into my room and took …