Short Story
Rolling Blackouts
Social Security sends us checks every month to say sorry about our mom. A thousand sorries for me and a thousand sorries for Vivian, and we accept them all.
Up and Out and Gone
They used to launch shuttles from the town, but that was all over now. Space had become derivative and unimportant and old.
Support Group
The blisters came two summers ago, after college. The biopsy came back inconclusive, so every month I go back to the office for a check-up.
Bring Your Lover to Work Day
We nibble at the sandwiches and make stilted conversation with one another’s better halves. The managers loom in the corner.
Self-Contained, Underwater
If she could speak, she would tell me she’s glad my reckoning has arrived.
And Another and Another and Another Glass of Rosé
We’re each of us on our third glass of rosé when the Bachelorette sends home the Last Man of Color.
Olive Olivia Olive Olive
With the baby came trouble, but not any of the kind the mommy blogs warned Ana about.
Professor Anita Baker
She was frightened by the lackadaisical way he displayed his violence, the way America trained her students.
Project
Maybe it’s strange that I haven’t acknowledged my ex, but how can I after the nails, which are either about me or not about me, and which is worse?
Be Vital! Be Vigorous! Ride the Rollercoaster
Talking about it would make me sound mentally ill, and sounding mentally ill—in this economy?—feels dangerous.