Fiction
Fiction
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Critical Mass
To fight your family’s genetic tendency to become ghosts, you rub makeup on your face so people can see you.
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Love’s Exodus
El Coyote appears before my shack, silhouette illuminated and clear. He removes his fedora and taps it against the wall, dust and sand in my eyes.
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Nullibiety
Both men made me promises. They said it would be better, that there would be bounty. And space, so much space between homes.
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In Less Than 365 Days
I knew a lot had changed in my part of town since I left because cafes had cropped up all over the place, like small checker pieces from other boards migrating over to ours.
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No One Calls me Chris
He wants to go a year backward. The evidence of this desire is the date he writes on all of the release forms.
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Muchijoon
I have always felt a visceral lifting in my stomach when I watch my mother peel pomegranates.
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New Year’s Eve
My brother calls, says, “Bring a razor the next time you visit mom. She wants her mustache shaved.”