A tortured simper uncoils itself across my mouth as I open another bottle of Penis wine.

I loved Rena as much as a patient could love their gynecologist. We had tea together in her office. I cried when she asked how I was doing, and she showed me pictures of her terriers.

I pushed my nose to within an inch from the rug. I sniffed, and sniffed, and I smelled something…not quite right, but I couldn’t place it.

I eat my Oreos with relish. No—I mean I relish in the Oreos I eat.

She turns her back for me to fasten the rows of metal hooks. Why isn’t our small, tender freedom enough?

To be encased, Clint had always thought, was foolishness. Why allow yourself to be open to such sorrow?

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

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

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

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 young boy goes to bed and kisses his mother goodnight. He goes to bed and closes his eyes and wishes his family good sleep.

The most entertaining thing about Miguel is that when he was 13 he dislocated his shoulder playing basketball and can now pop it in and out of place. There is nothing particularly interesting about Miguel.

Directly after the arrival of the Armada, this model made sense, as the gap between Unthulanian and Human cultures prevented a commensurable exchange of practices…