“I’ve made tea for her,” she says. “She’s such a good girl, never late.”

“I’m here Mum,” I want to say. Instead I say, “I’ll wait with you.”

Liz Cable (@lizcable) likes padlocks probably a bit too much.

“We’d be just two sad, old drunks if we didn’t have each other,” he says.

We clink glasses. The mirror cracks.

Petar Petrov (@pesh0man) likes short stories that linger long.

She left home, leaving only objects which belonged to a child with pigtails–an empty dollhouse, a teddy bear loved to shapelessness.

Sean Mulroy lives in Newcastle, Australia. His fiction has previously appeared in Every Day Fiction among other venues.

The kiss had to wait—his batteries died. She ran out to buy new ones; every passing second, the illusion she had built crumbled a bit more.

Miguel Paolo Reyes is a researcher from the Philippines.

Saying goodnight to my daughter: I recline her seat and read by dome light. When it’s cold I start the engine and let it idle her to sleep.​

Adam Henze (@henzbo) is a poet, educator, and researcher at Indiana University. He studies critical literacy and likes to play video games.

I told him to stop crying after our house flooded. It was only going to make the situation worse.

James Machell (@JamesRJMachell) is an SF/F writer in South Korea with an MSc in Creative Writing from the University of Edinburgh.

We talk about a lot down here, but one key point remains unspoken. When the water finally closes over him, it will only be up to my chin.

Phil Dyer is finding the time in Liverpool.

Saw my father today. Sat opposite him on the Tube. His hair had more flecks of grey in it and I think he’s lost weight. We didn’t speak. 

Mike Jackson lives in the UK and enjoys writing short tales in his retirement.

Donna and I never heard a sound coming from our new neighbors, who were separated from us by thick walls of black cherry and forsythia.

Still, whenever we made love, Donna insisted on closing the windows and drawing the curtains.

She would even lock the bedroom door, though we had no children, not even a cat that could nose its way in.

Later, when we had stopped making love altogether, the house held our silence like a broken bell.

Anyone listening as they let their dog pee against our mailbox would be unable to guess whether ours was a house of passion or devastation.

Even the packing up was quiet.

Charles Rafferty is an amateur archeologist who has yet to find any artifacts.

I said I’d never touch a drink again if I hit her or she got pregnant. An object in motion stays in motion. The moon full, no end in sight.

David Joez Villaverde (@academicjuggalo) is, and continues to be.