Fiction

My mother has a beard.

My sister deals drugs.

My brother performs exorcisms.

Margo’s daughter came home from school that Friday with a new friend. From the window in the kitchen, where she was trying and failing to make decent croissants for the third time this week, Margo watched the bus deposit her eight-year-old...

Reney’s bones can feel a fight long before the rest of her wakes to the rising voices and clattering bottles. She is eight, almost nine. Granny and Lula live in a new rent house across the tracks and down a long hill, not so very far. Over...

There was a period of my life when I saw wombs all around me, and so of course the chandeliers were uteruses.

My mistake was in forgetting: Every time I go to Johnson’s, I swear it will be the last time.

The hotel where she had hoped to spend a very happy week was in a small village in Tuscany at the end of two trains and a bus, facing a wheat field.

My parents live in Los Angeles, in a shambling three-story in the Hollywood Hills. 

Tear along the perforation and unfold. Hold a light source up to the backside of the underwater scene to reveal creatures hiding in the depths. 

I was visiting my grandparents in the old house…
“We should have some cake after dinner.”
“You need to think about your heart.”

It was a strange time to be alive. Things moved fast. Everyone was in a hurry. Nobody looked where they were going. Or into each other’s eyes.