His calloused hand squeezed her tiny thumb. Inadequate insurance, he discovered. He couldn’t afford healthcare. He could pay for a funeral.
Bruce Harris is a doctor and a salesman, but not necessarily in that order.
Beyond the vacant highchair sits our empty pool.
Len Kuntz writes and sometimes blogs.
His probation stopped on a dimebag.
Christopher Cocca writes fiction and MFAs at The New School.
We ate wontons until marriage became a tag on a fortune cookie. In a talk about needs he said do you even masturbate. I lied to him. In bed.
Sara Lippmann is a writer in Brooklyn.
Inspecting her bloody knuckles, she asked aloud if he was worth fighting for. From the ground, he gurgled what sounded to her like “yes.”
Noel Sloboda lives in Pennsylvania with three dogs, two cats, and one wife.
She tells him to back away slowly, she never wanted it to go this far. He nods and puts down the ring.
S. Kay (@blueberrio) enjoys tiny things saturated with flavor.
It was the worst of times. The best of times had passed him by, leaving him an old man in prison for a murder he didn’t commit. Until today.
Larry Hodges an Odyssey grad and active member of SFWA with numerous regular and twitter sales.
Dad sits Indian-style behind the metal fence. “Is this what you wanted?” Mom asks. I set the cupcake in the dirt and take my mother’s hand.
Brendan O’Brien was a backup JV QB in 1997. How you like him now?
Dad was more of a dog person, but when he made an issue of it, mom said she wanted cats. I’d have settled for a hamster, plus both parents.
Evan Schaeffer lives in St. Louis. Links to his stories and commentary essays can be found at www.evanschaeffer.com.