Fiction

“No están picando. Not even a nibble.” “Dad, how many times have I told you not to speak Spanish?” my daughter said in a hushed tone. “Yes, Yes, I know, but it’s just you and me here.” “Somebody could be listening, dad. You never know where there are microphones and even cameras these days.” “Okay, …

You know that moment when you bite into a hot piece of apple pie and your mouth waters and you think the only thing missing is a scoop of vanilla bean then you bite down and discover the apples are hard and the bottom crust is soggy and it makes you think of boarding school …

Kai spots the sign first: “Manila Wash.” I pull our U-Haul onto the shoulder of I-40, a welcome break from Kai’s assurances that I too will love Santa Fe. I step outside to find not a stream, or even a creek, but a strip of pale, cracked earth and patches of yellowed brush. “You’re right!” …

after Ocean Vuong I remember your car lighter. I remember your car lighter’s orange tip igniting the cigarette at your lips. I remember your breath thickening the cabin air. Back then you smoked every drive home. I remember the smoke replacing words, explanations, like why you were always the one who picked me up from …

I’m sitting at the dining-room table, kicking my bare feet. A fairy-tale feast I’m not allowed to touch is spread on the table in front of me. There are pyramids of pastel macarons. They’re made of plaster, but the Followers don’t know. There are peonies in a glass jar and tiered pink plates of doll-sized …

First of all, I didn’t know she was a witch. She didn’t look witchy at all. How many of us look like what we are? Besides, I had student loans to pay off. And here was this nice old lady, in the woods, where I often went to hug trees. I’d seen her ad in …

Sister is a pine tree. She is growing into a big, big thing. I am sad she has no bones. I am sad her blood is sap. But sister will live to be five hundred years old. And I can use her bark to clean my teeth, pin her needles into my braids, and sleep …

Winner of the 2023 Tobias Wolff Award It was the eighties and we didn’t know better. We microwaved leftovers in plastic containers, pressing our faces against the radiating glass door, watching our meal spin glamorous circles beneath a warm amber glow. We ate hot dogs cold, straight from the package. We sprayed cheese from a …

In the beginning, before we knew how to move our bodies to the beat of sultry music, before we knew how to intertwine our tired tongues, God decided, on a lonely Sunday afternoon, that they were bored.             They decided to make people and places and things. Light and darkness. War and peace. In an …

“You need money?” her mother said, and her voice sounded faint, as though she’d called from a million miles away. Sasi picked at one of the loose threads on her quilt. She knew her mother expected her to say no.  “No, I took out the maximum student loan, and my meal card is good for …