FICTION

“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
Albert Camus
Here in East Greenwich

He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.

graffiti on cement
Slabs

We drifted junk with a sledgehammer looking for juice. Sometimes the rage.

What Did I Mention To Ya?

Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.

In Rare Cases…

You’re joking, I say, interrupting the steady bumping of the doctor’s bushy white mustache.

wade-in

I am in Rite Aid buying ChapStick and diapers, when people start washing away in the rain.

The Rupture

Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.

Swoon

Jenna says that he typically goes for redheads, so I run to Target and buy a box of hair dye.

Behind This Fence in Future Tense

My new neighbor is making a violin from a cigar box. He got the cigar box from a guard. The guard, presumably, got it from outside the Fence.

When Robin Hood Was Caught Dead To Rights

and on and on and on and on they ran, the Merry Men, running from a hundred and one arrows bought with taxes stolen twice over…

Greetings From Baja California!

Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.

The Perfect Love

She said I would find my perfect love when on the brink of death.

Laika Came Home

When Laika the space dog comes back, bulleted to earth in a tiny white escape pod that dissolves upon opening, nobody can believe it.

You and Jane

You’ve been dreading this day since the moment you found out you were pregnant—perhaps even before.

rotarty phone
My Wife’s Phone

Sex is not a thank you card in this house.

dead roses
The Cycle

It all started with the curse of my tits. Women’s bodies are cursed. Everyone tries to look at them, everyone tries to ignore them.

Junk

It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.

The Drift

And then he feels that familiar sensation of drifting—when his body untethers from the material world and he soon dissolves into a fine, floating mist that evaporates into the atmosphere.

Darkness always follows.

The Bird That Carried One Hundred Messages To America

At the end of the meeting, the villagers agreed to contribute shillings and pounds to sponsor Elochi to a university in America.

view of earth from space
The Scattering

Allanson looked out of the viewport, at the ragtag flotilla of ships trailing behind, some of them slow to catch up. It was to be expected with the little time that they’d had to cobble the fleet together.

Theoretical Debate

On the first day of our new life together, my husband realized that I was not interested in theoretical debate. He said it was okay by him and went out to get some pancake mix.

Share some abandon.

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