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Fiction 7.3

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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 I don’t know how to begin to explain the letter my wife, Cameron, left waiting...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 Knit, knit, purl, purl. Fingers that tremble, muscles that have atrophied. My needles clack at...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 1. Onions. This is what I tell you on the phone when I ask you...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 She stood there, in the dark quiet morning, for nearly half an hour, and started...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 They are in the car now, the three of them: Laddy, Dodge, and Dill. Two...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 “What is the purpose of your visit?” I thought for a moment. The Immigration Officer...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 I am fifteen years old. My parents are dead. I have a blue bird puppet...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 Help Wanted In the truck we were mostly virgins. We had long slender torsos and...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 “You ain’t hear a lot of stuff about Bass Reeves. Nobody’s ever tackled him. He...
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Fiction, Vol. 7.3, Sept. 2013 Wade was made to work down in the stagnant, humid air of the sweltering cofferdam...