Fiction

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 …

    Assistant Editor Molly Reid: Margaret Emma Brandl’s “Mukbang” is a subtle critique of our current political situation, a nod to fake news, an exploration of cultural preoccupations with image and internet celebrity, and a sensory extravaganza—in 378 words. It’s a doozy. Also, if you’re not already familiar with the practice of mukbang, Google …

Wendy can’t help hovering outside the den when her fourteen-year-old daughter’s older friend Harris first comes over to play video games on a Saturday. They’re talking about a woman named Cora Goodnight, all over the local news for killing (probably) her three husbands and her pastor. The church-directory photo posted with each telling of her …

It’s winter in the sturgeon-spearing capital of the world. Once again, there is justification for the expensive trucks parked in the driveways of crumbling lakeside houses, waiting to be turned over and driven out onto the ice. Standing on the lake, which you can barely see across, is like being on a planet people are …

You could still do it. Over there, on those metal shelves lining the cinder-block wall, you’ve got the whole building’s supply of aerosol disinfectant, drain cleaner, and double-A batteries. Six cases of off-brand nondairy creamer, too; they’re stamped do not store at high temperatures, so you figure the stuff must burn. In your pocket, sweat-slick …

Señora Pérez’s house was too small for the four of us to go inside. El Míster and my abuela waited out front. My mom and me sat at the round table in the corner of the kitchen, my mom stabbing the rotary dial with her index finger. Sra. Pérez sat on her sofa watching a …

Just enough Luis knows I’m not in love with him, although he’s never asked. I can tell by the way he fits himself around the space where the question would go, always aware of the outline of it, the sharp edges that would catch and cut him if he got too close. Some days I …

Today the blinds are open, no matter how hot it is outside. Mom and I look down all twelve floors. My brother’s red car, the size of a pack of cigarettes, parallel parks between a motorcycle and a pickup truck. When he gets out of the car, he’s the size of a matchstick. Some girl …

Associate Editor James Ellenberger: “Boom” reads like a vivisection of a Studio Ghibli film. It’s magical, beautifully rendered, and haunting. What strikes me the most is the piece’s aural effect: McMahon layers vowels (“Now it looms, quiet, as water should be”) in a manner that’s reminiscent of waves overlapping and erasing themselves. The alliterative movements, of …

Russo mimicked the pimp walk he had always seen in American movies as he went around the table and gave his four siblings an extra spoonful of oatmeal. “What time is Mama calling?” Jean, the youngest, asked, his eyes still crusted in the corners. He always asked the same question. It was like the questions …