Bruce, on Ice

Bruce, on Ice

    Phoebe swears that the slick roads and misty skies, and the fatness of the roses in our front yard are all signs that point to Bruce. When we hear “Bruce” called out at a restaurant, or see the name in the newspapers, or watch a movie with a character...
A Protective Impulse

A Protective Impulse

  We want to believe that there is nothing natural about numbers. These ciphers are our perfect projections, whom we marshal and archive, in endless right angles. Though they have pores and spines, the tables we fashion for them are not carcasses or skeletons,...
Origin Story

Origin Story

  This afternoon, Iris’s mother plans to swallow a pill that will dissolved her thyroid gland, cure her hyperactive metabolic disorder, and turn her, temporarily, radioactive. She will lift the white pill over her blushed lips and open her teeth so that the...
Red Tide

Red Tide

  Robby Johnson sits at the bar drumming his fingers on a bottle of Bud. He’s been sitting in that same spot, two stools from the door, for the past two weeks. Since his dad and brother died. The only other person at the bar this early is Jimmy. Every night Robby...
A Plague

A Plague

  I went over to James’s house unannounced. He opened his bedroom door, his hair all bent and flat from sleeping. “What are you doing here?” he asked me. “Do you want to get dinner?” I asked him. He let the door fall wide and turned away from me. “I already had...
The Island

The Island

Owen watched Aubrey press her palm into a thick patch of speckled moss girdling the trunk of an old Douglas fir. The move was gentle and precise, how a mime might seek an invisible wall, and he couldn’t help but imagine her locked up in some dark basement, kidnapped,...
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