Short Stories
Claude left Tiff’s apartment and stepped into the windy night to prepare for a thirty minute commute back to her bed. She felt grateful for the time. Walking alone in the city helped her clear her mind, and she often took meandering walks after sunset. But on this particular night, she had a thought she couldn’t shake, one she couldn’t bear: a vision of Astra in handcuffs.
Read More“Can you believe people out here thinking I murdered my baby father?” Astra asked as she wrapped up plates of leftover wings, mac and cheese, and yellow cake from the meal. No one else answered, so Claude didn’t either. She watched Astra absentmindedly suck icing off of her pinky as she placed the plates in the refrigerator. Body bent into the appliance, ass in the air, the sequined writing on the back of her pink velour track pants facing the ceiling.
Read MoreClaude had lived in the city for five years and it still didn’t feel like home. Home, in her estimation, required capacity for mutual understanding between one being and another. Home was a gift she rarely received; a gift her family didn’t teach her how to give.
But her friendship with Astra came as close to home as Claude had felt before.
Read MoreThe first fire storm on the East coast landed at 5:55 pm. Sia and her younger sister Paulie sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of their makeshift living room, huddled around the glow of the glitching television screen. The youngest sister, Gigi, adjusted the machine’s antenna.
Read MoreLucy awoke with the lukewarm surf of the Atlantic tickling her toes for the third night in a row. She didn't quite remember where she fell asleep, but she was certain it wasn’t where she woke up.
Read MoreI remember the smell of artificial sugar and sweat. I remember the sound of our sneakers slipping along linoleum tile like the high pitched screams of little ghosts. I remember squeezing the wooden handle of my ice cream spatula and searching for my reflection in its silver blade.
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