• The Previous Owner by Daniel Person

    I was sitting at my dining room table, repeating the mantra of the hung over: too much, too old. In front of me was buttered toast and black coffee, fat and carbs and caffeine to ward away the burning in my stomach and the pounding in my head. But at that moment the food might as well have been plastic set pieces for decoration; I couldn’t fathom putting anything more into my body for the rest of my days. That’s when the knock came at the door. It was Sunday morning. My wife was at work, part of a 12-on schedule that was depriving me of her but providing me…

  • In an Empty Green Room by Gabi Clayton

    there are times now when I recognize that I have forgotten you spaces now where you are absent even in the everyday minutiae until my finger brushes against the tag from the crematorium kept in the same glass tray I keep earrings in and I recognize once again that you will always be seventeen