Fiction

    I. In his entire life, Brother Giorgio has never once thought about rocks falling from the sky. In fact, no one in Milan knows that a stone, like the plum-sized one presently several miles above the city, can … Read More

    The emergency evacuation alert is followed by a serene twenty seconds in which I decide to remove the eggs from their ice bath. It’s the simplest action available to me, and I know I can do it well. … Read More

She writes at night when sleeping is no longer an option. Words explode in her head like artillery fire in a war miles away, incursions, movements in the darkness, the promise, still invisible, of collateral damage. She tries to stay … Read More

  Today his world was not serene, because just before lunch, Menser lost his cuff key. A pleasing day would be O’Brien working on Max with enough Bubble time to end each shift, driving straight to the gym while sipping … Read More

  Maidencane isn’t half as elegant as it sounds. Not even close. When I came across the plant’s name in a copy of Gulf Coast Flora I had checked out from the library—the first to do so since 1976—I had … Read More

  In Reno, coyotes toss half-dead rabbits in the air with their mouths while the pack yips and sings. Emily watches them and listens. The rabbits tumble and spin in the air like jumpers from a burning building who land … Read More

  When you hit a jogger with your 4-Runner and he gets up and runs away, turning to say, Hey, I’m OK! as he disappears into the night, it’s logical to assume he’s OK, right? You stay in your car, … Read More

  Nina made me go to the camp. I only brought it up to make fun of it, but then Nina was like, “No, you have to go.” Nina thinks I’m too hung up on Declan, that I should “get … Read More

  1. The man who wasn’t there to buy furniture appeared my first week on the job. This was odd, because the store I worked at sold furniture, and because he was conspicuously alone. Normally, I got families or young … Read More

  The inferno blew and blew. It rose above the trees and spread outward like villainous arms across the porches of the neighbors’ houses. The cries of an engulfed dog pitched high and then disappeared. Inside the Mitchell home, the … Read More

  We play games in the backseat, the children and me. Is it bigger than a breadbox? Smaller than a house? Everyone’s a good sport before lunchtime but, by afternoon, our minds are tired and the games become more brutal. … Read More

  Because I am not Dave’s wife, I hold my ear to his daughter’s chest every day, when the other children are quiet, sleeping. I think of her as his second heartbeat. I watch my friends’ children while they work. … Read More