I’ve heard people say you’re not a real cowboy if you don’t wear Wrangler jeans. There’s gatekeeping everywhere, and a premium on conformity that has always pissed me off—although in fact the only jeans I own right now that don’t have a cavernous hole in the crotch are Wranglers, so I guess that makes me a cowboy.… More
Jesus Socks
Fiction by Hugh Behm-SteinbergPete has a pair of Jesus socks, like he can walk on broken glass and not feel a thing. One of them’s really saggy, but they’re both equally powerful.… More
Whiskey Sour
Fiction by Razmik KocharianMy homeland is where there are mountains, streams and churches. And there it is accepted that the youngest son lives with his parents. I moved out when I was twenty-three. By Armenian standards, I’m a rebel. According to Moscow’s ones, apparently, I’m a freeloader. However, my timid rebellion was as successful as a rebellion itself… More
You Should Learn
Fiction by AJ MaioranaI take the gun from him and step into the shooting lane. It’s heavier than I expected. I let the barrel sag, watch it tilt before correcting it. I let it rest on the shelf while the paper outline of a man rolls backward away from me.… More
Undertow
Fiction by Ryan SchulteSomething I learned from Robert was what foolishness it is to take yourself out of situations where you might get close to people just so you don’t hurt anyone. Pain is like life.… More
You’re Soaking in It
Fiction by Steve FoxI think mostly Dad wanted to let Darla keep Diego because having Diego around just reminded him that Michael wasn’t.… More
Two Stories
Prose by Rebecca TigerTroy’s fingers explore the tender lump on his upper right cheek. “What a night bro,” he says, looking around the train, “What a goddamn fucking night!” A young woman in the seat to his right looks up; his fidgeting has caught the corner of her eye. He smiles at her. “You’re lovely, you know?” he says. She has headphones on and cannot hear him.… More
Everything’s on the Floor
Fiction by Jeff HillHis lazy eye was one of the first things I noticed about him. One of the first things that made me fall for him, the goofy, romantic bastard.… More
Three Essays
Essay by Neil ConnellySix weeks after giving birth, one morning Beth lacked the strength to lift a hair dryer. Soon tugging a diaper tab spiked piercing pain. Her immune system assaulted her muscles. A drug cocktail restored her somewhat but with cruel side effects. Meanwhile, a book about the disease offered this on page two: “A good carpenter can extend the doorways in your house to accommodate the wheelchair.”… More
