Put a character in a house with a porch and a yard, and call the place old, even though less than two centuries weigh it down. A picket fence is useful, along with a crabapple tree. Mention alcohol abuse or…

It’s easy to disappear in the dampness of this town. Twelve moons ago, my mother wandered through a murky labyrinth of streets and bridges, crossing canal after canal—like I do now—leaving no footsteps. Cold air snakes across her face and…

Our six phones flatline before we arrive. The world that wears us down is out of reach. We alight from the car feeling airy and free. It's not our baggage that keeps us from floating; it's the weight of our…

Vic had his eye on a promise, a potentially fixable cool box buried underneath the junk. He was digging it up when the rain, only nagging before, began to bucket down. He rushed to the edge of the dump and…

I felt vulnerable, as anyone would when lying half undressed on a table with their legs spread in metal stirrups and the hands of a stranger touching them, their labia, their cervix—my body. "Try to relax," the doctor said.

My small-town modern ballet class competed and won the honor of dancing for the elevation of mankind in a pasture stocked with live animals. All expenses paid and eternal fame and so forth. Plus a token of gratitude for each.