Fiction
by Ilana Stanger.
“’Dina,’ she said, ‘you’re the least romantic person I know. For you to be a wedding photographer is too hilarious to pass up.’”
by Cori Baill.
“All that time I’ve been working here, mopping the floors, emptying the trash, washing down rooms, and watching the wet-behind-the-ears young pup doctors learn their business.”
by Yalitza Ferreras.
“Aunt #1’s plastic toilet lid shifts under Manolo’s weight as he balances his left ankle on his right knee, careful so his leg doesn’t slide off his sweatpants.”
by Ron Rindo.
“Two months after the loss of my only child, whose death—for which I am responsible—came in an unspeakable manner, I stand in line at the gas station, waiting to pay for my gas.”
by Rachel Rose.
“Earl was always chasing pussy when he was alive, so it was no big surprise when he came back as a weiner dog.”
by Elizabeth Downs.
“One otherwise pleasant evening at the asylum, I—a known murderess and recently declared Vice President of Ward G—escape through a partially opened, third-story window.”
by Joan Leegant.
“The surgeon came into the O.R. chewing gum. This was how we knew there’d be a problem. God have mercy, we mutter under our breaths…”
by Hollis Seamon.
“I shit you not. Right in front of the elevator that spits you into our hospice, there is—get ready for this—a harpist. I mean, isn’t that like a teensy bit premature?”
Kathi Hansen
“We’re not saying our boys are angels, … we’re just saying that we the mothers didn’t need to teach our boys not to rape.”