I am five. My mother has picked me up from school after her lunch shift at the restaurant. She smells like cooking oil, sliced fish, and soy sauce.
Arizabesu by Elizabeth Miki Brina
Category: Essays
Enough by Robert Weinberger
My father is the wisest man in the world. Children say things like this all the time, but in my case it’s true.
Six Flash Essays from ‘Leaving Instructions’ by Gail Hosking
I offer you these two cups of air, said the rabbi under the chuppa. One for you, and one for you. Though I’ll not tell you whose is whose.
The Decision by Stephen Morison, Jr.
I’ve traveled to dangerous places before. I once hitchhiked from Amman to Baghdad, but that was before the wars and the Twin Tower flattening…
Everett by Susan Imboden
“Hon, could you get me a cup a coffee?” asks the voice behind the curtain. It’s a remarkably strong one for someone with end-stage lung disease.
Armageddon by Lillian Brown
I haven’t attended Mass since before I got sick. It’s not that I’ve ever been a particularly religious person, but I did spend some time on the playground of the Catholic Church.
In the Safety of a Three-Sided Box by Jennifer Fliss
In a large brick box, tiny figurines stand still in what looks to be a family setting. We have a kitchen: miniscule butcher knife, thumb-sized boxes of cereal, and even a fridge that opens and closes.
Recipe by Heart by Catherine Young
I received my Italian heritage through food – through a sauce that is thick, greasy, salty, and orange-colored. Put together so that no one flavor predominates.
The Right Tap by Lara Lillibridge
I had forgotten how warm the water is straight out of the faucet in Key West. Open the cold tap, and you’ll get water warm enough to bathe in.
Just a Ferryman by Dan Branch
Auggie was passed out drunk when I first met Elizabeth. It was three in the afternoon on a summer Friday, only ninety minutes before the court closed for the weekend.
