Being short meant you couldn’t see over people who sat in front of you at the movies, and you didn’t stand out in a crowd.
Short by Anne Kenner
Category: Essays
going to iowa by Christine Fugate
There are two types of people who ride the train at three in the morning.
Mass by Craig Holt
Earlier today, they cut the growth from my throat.
Ghostcard by Ann de Forest
My sister lives outside of Seattle and has never been to Italy. This postcard came from elsewhere.
Heart Broken by Jade Lin
When I was seven, the pediatrician caught an irregular heartbeat thumping in my chest.
Decomposition by Sara Mann
The night before my mother died, I sat on a stool beside her bed writing the artist statement for her last show.
Cats Gymnastics by Brittany Ackerman
No one had ever had a birthday party like mine. I was allowed to invite ten girls from my fifth-grade class to an overnight party at Cats Gymnastics.
St. Anthony’s Mistake by Olivia Flaherty-Lovy
Last fall, I learned my mother had stopped praying.
In the Senate We Read Dante and I Loved Him by Donovan Dennis
We — the U.S. Senate’s thirty teenage pages—were divided according to our sponsoring senator’s party.
My Mother’s Bath Time Story by Yuko Iida Frost
In the early evening, my mother and father packed soap and towels into their wooden buckets, we slipped on our winter jackets, and the three of us walked to the nearest bath house.
