I am seventeen and driving fast on a two-lane highway with the windows open. It’s late afternoon, that hour when the day’s edges are singed gold. I’m alone, and because I’ve just recently gotten my license, this aloneness is a thing of wonder. The light in the Long Island sky seems to be telling me …
It takes very little to become a difficult patient. Having questions, feeling unexplained or anomalous pain, being uncajoled, seeming nervous for one’s first dose of chemo. The nurse looked at me sideways as I walked into the chemo-complex, and asked, “Are you all right?” as if I should have been. As if I looked excessively …
I am sleeping when the pain starts, dreaming of full hospitals and empty classrooms, a dark tunnel, dates on a computer screen, a diminishing roster of students, dead links, a riot of wildflowers—yellow to orange to code red—a superbloom of fires. My body jerks. My eyes open in the dark, and I am sucking air. …
Piya has just turned thirty. She works in her family’s hotel. Tonight she will become pregnant. In twenty-some weeks, she will lose the baby, and the state of Indiana will sentence her to twenty years in prison for feticide. One year for every week. But for now, it is early on Tuesday, and on Tuesdays …
There’s nothing much wrong with the Bridgeway Motor Court. The carpet in Coleman’s room is dappled with burn marks, and the exterior wall, the one with the windows, has these psychedelic zigzags at the bottom, like somebody’s kid was left to run their crayons back and forth over the same spot, rubbing them down to the nubs. It’s cheap, though, the motel, and there aren’t any bugs.
Peng Soon had knocked the glass of vodka and lime out of Paul’s hand at Taboo the first time they met. He had swung out his arm to illustrate a point in the story he was telling—a recent sexual conquest on a business trip to Taipei—and his hand met Paul’s glass. Unruffled, Peng Soon ran …
To be a child again. Is my wish. Something earthy and pleasant. Something before knowledge. Before. Me and the kids down the street making wooden gravestones with our names on them for Halloween, before we knew that one kid would die. How the gravestones lived with us years after, in the garage. Childhood, like a …
We are pleased to share the entire special feature from Issue 19.2 with craft essays about and reviews of anthologies, including the following pieces: (To use the PDF embedder to see additional pages, use the arrows on the bottom left-hand side.)
We are pleased to share this review by Emma Hudelson of Horse Girls: Recovering, Aspiring, and Devoted Riders Redefine the Iconic Bond, which appeared in Issue 19.2 as part of a special multigenre review and essay feature on anthologies (read the entire feature here): Horse Girls: Recovering, Aspiring, and Devoted Riders Redefine the Iconic Bond. …
We are pleased to share this review by Jess Barbagallo of The Methuen Drama Book of Trans Plays, which appeared in Issue 19.2 as part of a special multigenre review and essay feature on anthologies (read the entire feature here): The Methuen Drama Book of Trans Plays. Eds. Leanna Keyes, Lindsey Mantoan, and Angela Farr …
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