Heat and flies. Flies landing on my head, my arm, my plate, my food. Flies I have to constantly flick away while I eat.
The Shangri-La That Isn’t by Jennifer Tuman
Category: Essays
That Makes Two by Heather Van Deest
You cannot see the spots of blood on my mother’s driveway, the wet trail of red, like paint splattered on the ground, forgotten. Her neighbors scrubbed the cement clean later that night …
In Transit by Heather Rick
..Devin was the only person I knew with an actual job. Granted, he stocked children’s rollerblades and cans of tennis balls in the sports department of some Walmart … Still, it was enough for him to be a swaggering minimum-wage retail sugar daddy …
A New Year by Curtis Smith
My son runs into the living room. He wears the tuxedo he received last Christmas, the cuffs now high above his wrists. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I keep an eye on the clock.
Brotherly Love by Joseph Edwin Haeger
My friend Dan texted me to ask if I remembered Sid. I replied, “Of course I remembered Sid. Why?”
A First Job by Nathan Leslie
My father gave me my first real job. I was happy to accept the grace of nepotism.
Deceptions by Bryce Journey
I worked at the Dakota Watch Company because Stacy was cute.
Dear Phillies by Eileen Cunniffe
I know the deadline for applications for Ballgirl positions for the 2012 season has long since passed…
The Multihyphenated Author by Thomas Larson
Scrolling through Yahoo’s online finance page, I stumble on this purple headline: “A U.S. Debt Crisis Is On Its Way.”
Any Good News? by Carol Feiner
The old ladies sit and wait to die. While they are waiting they might play Bingo or have their hair done, but do not be fooled. What they really want to do is die.
