waiting for a cloud

stetson bostic

His home was hot, and the heaviness of the heat made him feel claustrophobic. He thought about his wife. She had left with their two sons a week ago, heading north with the convoy to their new home. Everyone who could was moving north, despite the knowledge that those who lived in tolerable locations would not be welcoming. The wealthy migrated even further despite living in manageable conditions, out of fear more than reason, leaving their homes behind and open. A community could survive some of these abandoned places, with preparation and effort, even when the sun hit with all the heat it could.

stolen light

whitney weisenberg

We puffed up our cheeks until they turned red, like Sunnie's hair, and we stayed that way, holding wishes in our mouths. Breathing through our noses but pretending not to until we were past Madison and Lemon, until the cemetery was no longer in sight, until it was safe to be alive again. We laughed—two sisters who had outsmarted death.

what everyone said happened that terrible year in third grade

roger d’agostin

Mike Light, who everyone calls retarded when teachers aren’t around, said Jimmy Smith liked Jillian McConnell.

Jane Meyers said she wished Mike’s brother, Duane, had beat Jimmy up because Jimmy shouldn’t keep knocking on Mike’s helmet and screaming, “Who’s there? Who’s there?” It’s not nice. He has to wear that helmet. Not because he’s retarded. That’s different. The helmet is for something else.

the corner of broadway and badass

renée thompson

The woman in the big brown truck pulls in front of the man’s house, hits the brakes and lurches forward, both hands on the wheel. Damned if she didn’t do the same thing yesterday, and the day before that, when she dropped off the instruction manuals he’d ordered online: How to Survive in the Wilderness and How to Go Up When Your State Goes Down, in the event things came to that.

observations of a personality store

lillie e. franks

No one browses at the personality store
They all come in, ask to see the black binder with rings so large it sits at an angle. They go through each page in the front room with the uncomfortable blue chair, pausing at every person they could be, and they try to look like they’re browsing but they never are.