by D. R. James
Just out of Minneapolis-St. Paul, we briefly seem to stall as if to shadow all the wispies drifting below. The mazes of cul-de-sacs have given way to assorted squares of barren fields, whiskered homesteads…
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Afterimage
by KT Thompson
When the airplane crashed in the meadow, I was on a walk to look for birds. My torso a crosshatch of straps: binoculars, camera, sling with water and treats for my dog, the leash.…
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Points of departure
by Sadie Palomino
I don’t want to tell you that I am a hooker. That story’s old news. I don’t want to tell you that in my luggage, I’ve packed twenty condoms and two vibrators, six changes…
by Jim Gustafson
So I am flying from Reno to Minneapolis, in the window seat. On my left the man in the middle speaks to the woman knitting In the aisle seat, her nimble fingers move almost…
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