Please be advised that this story includes descriptions of self-harm and suicidal ideation. —The Editors For the past thirteen days I’ve been sleeping in the canoe hanging in our garage. The canoe is aluminum and…
Browsing Category Fiction
The Topography of a Heartbeat
The nurse left work at five o’clock, or later. For night shifts, she left at five a.m., the sun cusped in the mountains on the edge of town. The work never left the nurse, the…
Leaving Home
Translated from the original Chinese by Jianan Qian and Alyssa Asquith The old men liked to say that our village was our world. I couldn’t accept this, and from the beginning, I felt that I…
The Museum of Palpable Art
I decided to give the Museum of Palpable Art one last go before I gave it up as a bad job. The first two times had been busts, plain and simple. And when I had…
The Line Cutter
A rodman at the far end. A transitman behind. She has them where she wants them, too far apart for brainless prattle, the joking at her expense. She works her way forward, toward the red…