New work, from Issue 14: Mary Birnbaum's "Like Home"
I had a mild distaste for nearly everything about him. I turned over in bed to face the open window. A dry huff of Santa Ana wind blew in and chapped my eyes, so I shut them. The problem with my husband was that while he might be infuriating, I had decided I was going to need him during the invasion.
New work, from Issue 14: Ta'riq Fisher's "Birds, Bees"
Darius took a step back and looked like he was about to raise his hands, but the cop closed the gap between them and collided into him with a left hook that had the full support of his weight behind it. Clocked Darius right in his mouth, I heard the impact and it sounded like the something popped. They went to the ground like two alley cats, the cop still whaling on my baby brother.
My parents, Allison said shakily.
i had other names for him besides hector.
a woman on the beach heard me call him bubbles once.
then mr sausage. she stopped to pat him, ‘so his name’s
bubbles?’ she asked. no i said. awkwardly. it’s hector. ...
I would later learn that the ship had only been here a month and change, that it was a recent addition to these bouldered shores I keep returning to, year in and year out, ...
Sheri tells me there are bats in her closet. “They’re diving and circling around and diving again.” Sheri is four and, as far as I know, has never seen a bat.
From "The Augury of Bats," by Kiran Kaur Saini.
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