• Forty-Five by Ulee Edwards

    Thwump, thwump, thwump, thwump The record player’s arm jumps at the end of the spiraled midnight groove. Bass thumps flicker from the needle, reverberating through the studio apartment. The repetitious beat sets a monotonous soundtrack to the lethargic morning. An occupied mattress sits on a hardwood floor. A light breeze and warm eastern sunlight radiate from the single-paned window. Contrasting warm and cool sensations cause Aaron’s naked body to burst into goosebumps. Aside from the sheet strung across Aaron’s midsection, a sleeping lover in a cocoon of hoarded blankets is the only source of warmth. The bombardment of senses causes eyelids to flutter as ears catch up to a groggy…

  • Sharing by John Kulm

    She said, “You never wash the dishes.” He said, “That’s not true at all. I’m sure I have.” She said, “I have to take care of you like I’m your mother.” She said, “I am not your mother.” He took that as a personal attack. He took it as an attack on his manhood and a little disparaging about his mother.

  • Corsairs by Justin Ballard

    This is what happens, when “something” is better than nothing at all. The quiet desperation of memories of things that never happened, cities never built, worlds never explored, watching the sands from the hourglass fall. Weaving through time, extrapolated metaphysical context. To secede from the constraints of the constant, of physics.

  • Sunday Evening by Erik Carlsen

    When you are Scraping the Red batter with The melon baller And your ingrown Toenail gives you A call back Rest the potato Skins in the oil And watch the Packers game With your Anatomy textbook On the music stand