Of course, he would have called them “caps,” but what he kept on the rack in the hallway were, to me, always “hats.”
My Dad’s Hats by Warren Rawson
Tag: flash
Stalking My Ex-Boyfriend’s Girlfriend on Facebook by Amanda Miska
She is beautiful—like, princess-of-some-obscure-country beautiful or my-dad-is-a-B-list-celebrity-and-my-mom’s-a-performance-artist beautiful.
What I Learned Instead by Debbie Bradford
Houses, trees, telephone poles blur. I close my eyes, but they open. To see how I’m going to die.
Bereaved by Bernard Grant
… I step outside and meet a squirrel standing between my car’s back tire and the curb.
Traction by Krista Christensen
Today, like hundreds of yesterdays, he prepares for work, clipping closed his knife bag after donning standard culinary regalia.
An End Not of Hope But Horizon by Joe Kraus
My father, dying, held out two days to say goodbye to Tommy and Karolyn Burkett, returning as quickly as they could from England.
Another Version of Us by Suzanne Farrell Smith
It’s raining when we exit Saks on 49th and Fifth, so I pull umbrellas from my tote. The walk sign blinks, and I move quickly. He blocks my way.
How to Attend an Indian Funeral by Allison Williams
The color of mourning is white. Not knowing you were going to a funeral, your violet Punjabi dress will have to do.
The Mint Farm by Liesl Nunns
She knows I love the Amish—in the way one loves all things experienced theoretically and from the perspective of novelty: with casual abandon.
Bare by Jason Griffith
At home we give clean and comfortable nicknames. Bathroom. Restroom. We hide them away in caverns lit by Yankee candles.
