In The Wake Of The Storm By Alex Shvartsman. There is a black-and-white photo within arm’s reach. I set the hose down on the staircase steps, reach down, and scoop it up from the bottom. The paper is too soggy
Unremembered Unforgotten by Ken Altabef. She was surprised to find that even after twenty years of wind and rain, the crimson paint mark remained visible on her front door. Faded and clotted with gray dust, the treble mark persisted, still
Threads of Pearl, Writhing by Gwendolyn Clare. They tell you it won’t hurt—that part is the lie. It does. But afterward, you won’t feel any pain at all. Ever again. They believe the lie because they can’t remember what “hurt” means.
Dance by Laura Anne Gilman. “It’s a beautiful tree.” Her brother came in from the garage, shaking the snow off his boots and dropping his overnight bag by the door.
“It is, isn’t it?” Mara was feeling decidedly pleased with
The Farm by George Right. The leisurely sunset of the July day washed the valley with gold, filling the world with bright saturated colors like a 1950s film; the rare ruffled clouds in the west simply glowed high in the