Home was the poison infestation of starfish, the bleaching acres of coral.
For Lina, exile began not at the gates of Dzhambul, at the place she was sent for her sentence: a distant place and sad, far from science.
Exactly one year and one day after my wife falls overboard and goes to the unchained, I receive a letter from the man who killed her.
This is how you live forever.
Atiador, I hope you read this.
I wasn’t planning on making one of these: I’ve only had the one short story out this year, and I don’t keep a blog where I could post about things like this.
I’m a little bit drunk before the meal even starts.
On Proclamation Day, all of us got a command from on high: “Stop using that symbol.
Principal Freezarro announced that you’re substitute teaching in my kindergarten class for the next few weeks.
I am sixteen and sitting on the edge of an empty subway platform when Peter, forever small, reappears.