Fiction

Here in East Greenwich

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

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.

Mother and Her Remains

Mama sped along the highway, unbothered by bits of gravel that flew up from the front tires and struck the windshield of the sedan.

Demolition

I feel somewhat bad about using the death of my father as an excuse to prolong my trip.

The Whole Vile Lot

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

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.

Out of the Harbor and Into the Open Sea

I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.

Pleasure That Cannot Be Felt as Such

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.

Oppressive and Certain Decay

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.

Chrysalis

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

Swoon

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

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.