Jabber
by Ryan Amare
She lands on her back against the tile, her hair landing in the puddle of spilled chardonnay.
by Jim Jonke
Mel watched the pretty girls board the train at Grand, ride to Addison, depart. They were blonde and young and some wore skirts. One of them twirled her hair between her fingers absent-mindedly while her friend talked.
by Allison Ristaino
The second the incessant ringing of the alarm clock reached her ears, Kim put a stop to it, threw off the covers, and rushed into the bathroom. If she didn’t immediately splash her face with cold water, it would be another few hours before she’d awake fully.
by Maya Rasmussen
My sister wants me to see how rich she is. She has this espresso machine, not the dainty Nespresso machine anyone can buy from Target. A real espresso maker. Stainless steel. Indistinctly European name like Leli Dulce Bianca Madre di Visconti.
by Harry Quinn
Remember Earl? We met back in school. Trust fund kid. Snorted it by junior year. His dad invented the heart valve replacement or the defibrillator or something having to do with the heart.
by Cecilia Quirarte
My mom is gonna kill me if she finds out. She’s never gonna let me leave the house, that’s for sure. I’m gripping the steering wheel tighter. This is what I get for trying to make friends with the new kids in town.
by Jonathan Wallace
The unspoken rule is that you don’t speak when you’re changing in the locker room. Just don’t. And this guy doesn’t say a word. But what’s with the nod?
by Alyssa Stilley
I was waiting on the corner, my breath fogging up in front of me and the ice crunching underneath my shoes. James texted me that he would be here soon, that he could pick me up from work on his way back into the city so I didn’t have to take the train. The cold was biting through my tights and I tried to push down the thought that this was a bad idea.
by Kaitlin Lavinder
I walked along the water during the rain storm and watched the elms’ branches shake violently. Two pairs of geese fought each other for territory with tongues out and feathers puffed, wings flapping vigorously. I imagined I was a goose.
by Samantha Hackett
He’s sorting through tit pics hoping to find the perfect one. Microwaving leftovers. Badly. Not stirring them or adding a splash of olive oil to pep up what is now dry, sad pasta.