A Friday evening, a blinding headache, and the dreaded return to an empty apartment. For Lucy, even the familiar walk home feels like an ordeal. (fiction)
Tag: writer
He said,
two
images
haunt him.
(Ukrainian Voices / nonfiction)
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to Brett’s work and asked him, point-blank, what he saw in his new girlfriend Stella… (fiction)
In the kid culture I experienced, we all knew each other’s religion, but it was not a significant separator, or even a reliable indicator, as to who you were likely to befriend. Greater significance might be tethered to whether you rooted for the White Sox or the Cubs. (nonfiction)
In the morning Hank Jenkins sold me a ten-foot by sixteen-foot United States flag and cautioned me about terrorists. (fiction)
After a long hospitalization, my father returns home to die on January 2025’s coldest day—the Thursday after Orthodox Christmas. The packed snow on the steep, gravel driveway leading to his house is a slick, icy sheet… (nonfiction/Ukraine)
The latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new and recent books.
there are trees. A tall one
that has shed all its leaves,
has its roots in my heart.
One, still bright with red
and orange, touches
the great loves of my life,
while a spruce, evergreen,
keeps me shamelessly naive.
And in the immediate aftermath of the divorce, Real Adam understood that if ever there were a time to start again—to remake himself—it was now. Among friends, I took to calling my new experience Life 2.0. Like a software update.
(nonfiction)
Lamb’s ears plucked where
the stairs are, prairie
grass, steeple here, and
dandelion bends,
(poetry)
Angela was wearing her dress with the lowest neckline, which also luckily had pockets so she could keep her phone on and hidden and I could hear what was happening. That’s important—dresses having pockets. To women, I mean. That’s the kind of healthy relationship Angela and I have. I pay attention to which dresses have pockets.
(fiction)
