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FICTION

It Will Be All of These Things by Ruth LeFaive

April 23, 2021

  Nine of us cram into Brad O’Neill’s dad’s Buick, a girl to each lap, and Gulp’s snugging my middle before all the doors crash shut. I look back to see his tanned cheekbones; it’s really him, Gulp North, under…

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In the Winter by Puloma Ghosh

April 16, 2021

  I become quite pretty in the winter, in the dim afternoons with sheet metal skies. I line my lips with brown, burgundy, wine and whiskey stains. I crave bright fruits as though they’ll substitute the daylight—sunset persimmons, sunrise grapefruit,…

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Let’s Say, Triptych by Steven Sherrill

April 9, 2021

  Let’s say you follow her home. The barefoot girl on the corner of Union, where Nut Creek gnaws at the back steps of a church and the struggling crisis center. She cuts her own hair, with garden clippers. Let’s…

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We’re All Just Trying to Keep Our Shit Together at the DMV by L Mari Harris

April 8, 2021

  The woman sitting in front of me loudly whispers in her crying baby’s ear, “Sobby Robby, stop it. Shut up, Sobby Robby.” There’s a glob of hard dirt stuck below her right ear. Or maybe it’s a birthmark. Her…

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Adapted from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary’s Definitions of “Rock” by Audrey Bauman

April 7, 2021

  rock  verb \ ˈräk  \ rocked; rocking; rocks transitive verb   1        : to move back and forth in or as if in a cradle Every ten years the Arkansas catfish woman emerges from her riverbed and rocks to-and-fro, lets…

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un/synced by Lisa Bass

April 6, 2021

  Week of April 4, 2020 I swallowed most of a fly today at Spring Creek Park. It swept past my lips, then lodged itself into the back of my throat, launching a series of gagging coughs. A family of…

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Big Feelings by Ian Saunders

March 26, 2021

  When you arrive, the boy is perched on the kitchen island with a serrated knife in his hand. Stabbing at the vacuum-sealed top of a plastic cereal bag. When he sees you in the doorway, he grins a wild…

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Nest by Erin Slaughter

March 19, 2021

  Kate had been huffing around the house since our dad died, and now she was convinced our dead dad was inhabiting a fly she found stuck buzzing between her bedroom blinds the morning of the funeral. Also, she had…

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“Go Live with the Arabs” by Lital Abazon

March 12, 2021

  Everything about Shiraz’s mom is dark and shiny, especially her black vinyl coat. Her lipstick is the same deep purple as the polish on her long nails and her high-heeled strappy sandals. I once asked Mom to try on…

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Call Her No One by Frances Ogamba

March 5, 2021

  On the day the buyer is to come, my aunt and I put a green dress on the baby, sleek her hair, and fit a cap on her. The baby’s socks are different―one is yellow with two white stripes,…

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