Countable Minutes by Kyle Ellingson 6:06 p.m.—walking home from bus stopI was standing around at an intersection, no traffic in sight, waiting for the walk sign to invite me lawfully across. A woman my own age, dressed in my same length of autumnal peacoat (tall...
Three Rabbits by Barrett Bowlin I haven’t told you this one, but my vet let something spill the other day when we were talking. She told me about how she’d lost it after putting down some kid’s bunny. The child had gotten it as a birthday present and...
Busboy by Ian Denning True had that end-of-the-night feeling: the tired eyes, the ache in the arches of his feet, dried sweat that clammed his black pants and cheap black polo to his skin. He and Lindsay were drinking their shifties. Their table was close to the...
