One thing she begged of him was that he should never love her in that emulative way, that way in which young people do celebrities which causes them to imitate their styles of dress and speech. She never begged it out loud, though, because she couldn’t find the way of saying it that was empty…
Category: Issue 8
Issue 8.2 – Poetry
I love you, not in the romantic sense, I don’t want to date you. I just love you in the way that I get tingles in my chest when I see you and laugh with you. The way I love you is a nervous kind of love, a cute little laugh over a steamed cup…
Issue 8.1 – Nonfiction
On the way home from lunch one day my husband and I saw a sign for Gaglione. We had just moved to Italy and had nothing better to do on such a beautiful summer’s day, so we followed the left tine of the forked road to see what kind of hamlet gets a name like…
Issue 8.1 – Fiction
When it was obvious that he wasn’t coming, Francine put the angel hair and the Texas toast under foil and got moving. This was her day off and she had things to do and she wouldn’t be caught dead not doing them on account of some prick. She turned on Keeping Up with the Kardashians…
Issue 8.1 – Poetry
I ate men, one after the other, licking my fingers as I finished each one. I was feeding myself, filling up cold, star-less nights, taking their fire and then wiping it away, tossing the leftovers in the trash. But men are not good nutrition. My bones shrank and hollowed,…
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