Dreaming, I Was Complicit

Liz Chang

You stood overmy shoulder, goadingme, one hand cuppedon my waist, as Idecided who would die with each new shoeboxopened, some clueto their identities inside.A bird’s nest, ashes,small keys the sizeand crouch of regurgitatedmouse skeletons.What ordinary objectsstood for whole lives. The last box was fitfor children’s shoes,with a purple, incidentalprint on the outside.I opened the top,relieved […]


Steve Hicks

These were the drives that Stan liked best. He felt unrushed, free to go as slow as he pleased, to savor what he suspected to be the last of such journeys. In Maine, a woman waited for him and for the ring he had promised her.