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short fiction

Emblazon

Clock in, clock out—that about summed up my workdays, since I lost track of everything else that occurred in between. Historians claimed Read More

Nobody Cares

When it poured outside, gloom slowly struck my father like a chisel knocking against his finely tapered temples. I imagined it, every Read More

Your Kind of Thing

In our bedroom, darkness welcomed silence. I would stare out of the window into the neighborhood lights emanated by its street lamps, Read More

June, It’s Me

They sped a derelict car through a bleak road entangled by perched autumn trees, limp branches reminding them of their dejection—dangling for Read More