Note: the form of this piece was inspired by Susan Sontag’s short story The Way We Live Now. Sontag’s text is available to read online at...

That’s the Price of Living MILTON is trying to relax in his living room. Wearing his brown dressing gown, slippers and stripey night cap,...

I spent the night in Benjamin's room. I didn't want to, or rather I didn't intend to. Even though I was alone it felt like he was there,...

Content Warning: Racist language It was Tuesday on a sluggish June afternoon in 1956, and Samuel Cohn sat and smoked a cigarette, waiting...

The Age of Discord The refugee’s home is my home But it only became my home when the refugee thanked me for it This is the Age of...

In the Smoking Area Cristina Rizzo “You ok?” He scares me. His voice is hugged by the cushioned music from inside the club. My ears feel...

The master left home for five days. Five days ago, several men came to the mountain. They were all clad in tin, and their faces were...

It is my four hundred and fortieth year upon this Earth, and I can no longer recognize my own face. I know it in essence, have seen the...

Many are those who, straining to be heard above the throbbing dub of the local coffee shop, insist that they work better with music, and...

A while ago, in the back of a bar in Madrid, a friend once asked me which, out of all of God’s creatures who ever walked this earth, I...

The vans travelled alone, materializing in back alleys and underneath streetlamps, when the funeral shroud of night had been drawn over...

Jamie looked like neither a girl nor a boy. They had ear-length brown hair, high cheekbones, and thin skin that wrapped their rocky jaw...