by Dustin Hoffman | Oct 9, 2013
A plumber died in the trenches. The red earth caved, made a sucking sound as the cold clay swallowed his knees and then the topsoil cascaded in a sigh. In that first second of his boots sinking, he thought about wet socks. When the ground viced his chest, he imagined...
by Jonathan Greenhause | Sep 30, 2013
He was cannonballed out of oblivion six weeks early, slick and bloody, head ripe as a cherry, neck raw where his life cord had nearly choked him in the womb. His mother said he had “ancient eyes” and named him after a great-uncle who’d been gassed in Auschwitz....
by Dan Kellum | Sep 22, 2013
There were five Schlegel sisters and they all grew up and moved away, two to Europe, one to Texas, another to California and the last one across town, to a condo on Roswell Road. Two of them had graduate degrees. One was a CPA, another a PhD. Three of them were...
by Celia Bland | Sep 13, 2013
The desk clerk at the Day’s Inn was reading a book propped on his wide stomach. “Yes, ma’am?” A starchy shirt collar cut into his neck, forcing the fat up and over. “How much for a room?” “Thirty.” My grandmother had pressed a $50 into my hand when I kissed her...
by Ben Hoffman | Sep 4, 2013
Prep Brent and Sheila have a perfect marriage and also a dinner party. Our wives make us go so we can see how a perfect husband acts. A perfect husband shaves daily, quits at two beers, does not adjust his privates at back-to-school night, not that any of us have done...
by Amanda Avutu | Aug 27, 2013
Two days after the storm passed, and I’d already found all I thought there was to find: A bottle of French’s Yellow Mustard; an electric bill; and Pauline, near the watering hose, the giant Cottonwood tree laying across her chest like a sleepy baby. All I...
