Stories from
May, 2014

On my way to the home, I pick a hemlock flower to add to the bouquet. He still laughs at our old running jokes, when I explain them.

R. Gatwood is concise.

The girl took a selfie with the pop star through a telepresence robot and went back to her hospital bed with a print, forgetting her pain.

S. Kay is a compassionate @blueberrio.

My father once jumped over fences like an Olympic hurdler to reach his son with the broken arm, breathless. The fences are too high now.

Brett Milam writes flash fiction, poetry and editorials, mostly while hooked up to a coffee IV. He’s obsessed with his dog, Dallas.

I sailed down the creek in a tiny rowboat using torn bible pages as my map. I never did find that garden.

Michael O’Neill is a fiction and poetry writer residing in Chicago.