by Adam Alokby
Reed’s my twin, but I never felt like we were that connected or anything. Not in that special way people ask us about. To be honest, I think it’s all a big joke, feeling your twin’s pain and all that. It doesn’t make sense.
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by Emily Cann
Sally has said on numerous occasions, It’s me, it’s me, it has to be me. At book club we surround her, we smother her to say it’s not you. Of course it’s not you. It is men. It has to be men. She says yes, yes it’s the men. I pick the wrong men. Someone inevitably says, They’re all the wrong men. Sometimes it is even me that says that.
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by Bronwyn Garden-Smith
An ice storm knocked the power out in your city on Valentine’s Day. The next day, the temperature rose obscenely, causing the ice that had coated the trees to melt, making the water drip drip drip drip on your coat insistently like an anxious tic. Then your power came back; you charged your phone, boiled water for tea.
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by Adam Haiun
Everywhere there are holes and bad fathers. Last year a woman stepped into her pantry and fell into the canopy of a pine forest. Just a few weeks ago a garden shed opened to the sea and a new kind of squid spilled out onto the lawn. Each room is an opportunity for a hole and each father is an opportunity for a bad father.
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by Edmario Lesi
Two girls watch a YouTube video of the accident that removed me from Never Never—a reality TV show wherein teenagers are stranded in a remote part of northwest Queensland. The girls sit against a bookshelf, and the smaller of them rests a laptop on her overturned school bag.
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by Alex Manley
The whole cab ride back Marie kept thinking it was a bad idea, staring out the window, picking at the edges of the clear sticker on the window with the different fare rates. She had a hard time putting into words just what it was she was in the process of doing but it made her stomach tense up
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