DOOMSDAY APOCALYPSE MELANCHOLIA BLUES by Nathaniel Duggan
It was an easy thing, that winter, to realize that you were not, in fact, you—rather you were the untitled, draft email of yourself, addressed to no one.
RECENTISH by Spencer Thomas Campbell
But the product of this was both gushy and vain. Embarrassing. It was easy to read his real interest, which was carnal, puckered.
THE FAST-FOOD REBELLION and THE LARPER by Will Musgrove
On break, he spoke to us through the order box. The sun warming our necks, we tossed French fries to seagulls and smelled the electric static on his breath.
THE FORTY-FIVE DOLLAR SCYTHE by Don Television
They looked for the seller. They were sometimes lurking near the booth, watching as you handled the crockery. Watching as you flipped through the records.
OLD MAN SHADOW by Christopher Notarnicola
The girl came out, banana in hand, and the guy from the back followed, loosening his fruit-stained apron, gaping at the climb.
DAVID’S GOING TO DIE by Aurora Huiza
Everybody in that coffee shop was always standing around, walking into each other, then backing up and trying again, like Sims, walking into the fridge, backing up, trying again.
WHAT WE DID by K. A. Polzin
Then there was nothing left to sell. The blood bank told us we needed to give our veins a rest. Should we try pickpocketing, we wondered.
LISTENING TO DINOSAURS by Kyle Seibel
That morning at Rincon marked a change in my relationship to the dinosaurs. Fewer and fewer would muster when I called a session until I stopped doing it so much. Felt like I was bugging them.
FIRST AID by Boston Chandler
"Get out of here, pervert." He doesn’t get out of here. People watch from their small islands of striped towels and coolers.
THE PINHEADED DINOSAURS WITH THEIR TINY SKULLS by Kellie Rankey
We think about shaving and razors and haircuts and the whole fashion of manipulating the body into approved shapes. We wish our teeth were sharper, stronger.