Short Fiction
On his first day at the Bengaluru Metropolitan Transport Corporation, twenty-five year old Masti Govind Swamy, named after the village of Masti, where his father, not he, was born, found to his
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Long Way Home
My mother told me I should never date a guy who didn't have his own car. She said that it set some bad precedent, mixed up the lines between provider and provided-for. There's nothing more ladylike
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Perhaps Under Different Circumstances
Anna knew the bridge was a mistake before she and Henry even got there. Maybe it was because he had said he thought it was strange for full grown adults to interrupt a conversation to swoon over an
...
[+]
Short Fiction
PrinceMatch
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who was stolen by a terrible necromancer. He and his rotting, clanking horde abducted her from the palace gardens and carried her away and away until
...
[+]
Short Fiction
First Date
I watched one of those old movies the other day—you know, from when nobody wore masks. It was a little disturbing to see all those naked mouths, and sometimes it was tricky to tell what was going on
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Save the Date
They did it for the hell of it. They knew they wouldn't last. Their friends knew; their families knew; even their dog knew, though it wasn't invited to the wedding.
It was fun, especially when they ... [+]
It was fun, especially when they ... [+]
Short Fiction
Drunk Driving
I. Sober
Mrs. Anna Shaw dreaded Saturdays, though if you asked her why, she wouldn't have known exactly what to say. "Dinner just doesn't feel right," she might say, tugging thoughtfully at he ... [+]
Mrs. Anna Shaw dreaded Saturdays, though if you asked her why, she wouldn't have known exactly what to say. "Dinner just doesn't feel right," she might say, tugging thoughtfully at he ... [+]
Short Fiction
Bayshore Piano Movers
This job is a grand. We're supposed to deliver the piano from a suburban chateau into a self-storage facility. Why doesn't matter. Pick-up address, how many floors down; delivery address, how many
...
[+]
Short Fiction
A Box of Things
"She's a difficult pleasure," I said of my ex-wife. I was standing at the front door of her house, talking to her new partner, Sammy, a woman. My ex-wife, Lily, was not there.
We both took in ... [+]
We both took in ... [+]
Short Fiction
Seamless Transition
In front of him, for nearly every minute he was awake, there was a screen.
He tried to recall a time when it wasn't this way. He couldn't, so he watched old movies to try to remember.
"Yeah ... [+]
He tried to recall a time when it wasn't this way. He couldn't, so he watched old movies to try to remember.
"Yeah ... [+]
Short Fiction
She Squared
She sleeps like a dead weight now beside me, lowered into the night, the ropes of the day swaying around her. We know nothing about each other really. She does not know how often my ex-lover visits me
...
[+]
Short Fiction
How I Learned to Stay Alive
This story contains adult themes and is not appropriate for young or sensitive readers.
I met Sarkas at a club called Pose. Rolling on molly, eager to swallow the world, dancing with our hips ... [+]
I met Sarkas at a club called Pose. Rolling on molly, eager to swallow the world, dancing with our hips ... [+]
Short Fiction
The Sword Swallower Cuts Their Tongue While Saying Goodbye
The weather was good today, you answer whenever I ask how are you, how was your day. I don't know when we stopped talking about what mattered the most because you won't tell me. I ask are you
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Dallas Fireflies
It began at a sports bar, the kind of place the realtor would call "happy-go-lucky." In other words, if your barstool wasn't sticky, assume it had just been swabbed clean by CSI. There was graffiti
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Bargaining
I remember when my world divided into male and female, when the girls screamed "Shaun has cooties!" across the playground and flushed with what I thought was anger. I remember being in a closet with
...
[+]
Short Fiction
Human Song
We pull off at the side of the highway in Somewhere, Maine looking to sing to the snails. There's a deep shoulder of gravel here, so we assume it to be a parking lot. The sky and the water and the
...
[+]
Short Fiction
First In, Last Out
On our last day at the beach the sun came out, and the fog, which for that whole week had draped the shore in a veil of cotton, burned away: we discovered there was an ocean here, after all. It
...
[+]