by Daniel Uncapher
Shelter’s got some really good ideas but I don’t always know what to make of them.
We met on a dating app, which he says he uses strictly for technical inspiration with the single exception of my case specifically, and it was his idea to delete the app together.
I’d been experimenting with the concept of dispossession in general and loved the idea. I went ahead and deleted my news app, too, after reading that 357 whales beached themselves again in New Zealand and no one can say why the sweet saps did it.
by Jen Michalski
“We’ll come back some other weekend,” your mother says. You sit in the parking lot, all four windows of the Subaru open, because your mother, in her quest to get the best gas mileage, doesn’t believe in air conditioning.
“We’re turning around and going home?” You look at her in disbelief. About three miles before the exit for Kings Dominion, you’d discovered, while rooting for Tic Tacs in your mother’s purse, that the discounted tickets she’d bought a month before at the grocery store were missing. Not missing–you could see them very clearly in your mind, at home on the dining room table next to the electric bill where she’d left them. Continue reading
by Matt McGowan
Artie talked like he owned the place, loud and fast and with a discernable accent. Take our first encounter, the bathroom in Neff Hall. I can’t remember what he was talking about, but I know the person he was talking to said only five words: “uh huh” and “is that right?” While urinating, Artie talked some more and then finally had to be alone with his Grand Central Station brain when his friend hustled out of the bathroom without washing his hands.
Which is what I was doing when Artie addressed me for the first time. Continue reading
by Brett M. Bourdon
Step 1. Your father must leave your mother. This is the easiest step. Dad will do all of the work for you! For best results, your father should move in with a new family, with a new wife, and two new sons. Continue reading
by Anastasia Jill
Indrina bought honey from the man down the road at ten each morning, squeezing a fresh drop in the vile around her neck. She gifted the remaining goo to me, because she knew she’d never eat it.
“Then why do you buy it?”
Like every other day, she doesn’t answer. Continue reading