Just a Little Old Cat Lady, Part II

by Jolene Dawe

A week later, Hero returned from his walkabout frantic. When Chelsea opened the door for him he simply sat down in the yard and yowled at her. Chelsea tossed on a pair of boots and approached him, worried that he had hurt himself. When she got near to him he backed up and sat down a few feet away. He repeated this until she realized she was to follow him and then he led her at a jog into the woods. She knew the moment she left her land. Something tingled across her skin, making her ill at ease. Hero led her half-a-mile into the woods, to natural shelter made from fallen trees and leaves. There, kept warm and dry in a pile of dead leaves and moss, lay three kittens. Chelsea dropped to her knees to get a better look at the babies. Read more.

A Wake in One Zone

by Richard Grayson

SLEEPYHEAD--I WENT OUT FOR A WALK WITH YOUR GRANDFATHER, the note on the hotel-room dresser said. She smiled dreamily and remembered something pleasant. The traveler's alarm clock, that small green triangle, said it was 3:40. She had gone to sleep with a headache after lunch; Robert had been doing needlepoint on the other bed. The hotel room had two beds, one single and one double. Now Robert was gone. Read more.

Sometime Raining, Sometime No Raining in Thailand

by Adam Jeffries Schwartz

The Armenian Cab Driver

Your cab driver is Armenian. You know this because he says, "Hello, I am Armenian."

"Really?" You say, "How long have you lived in New York?"

He laughs, "All my life. It's just for money."

What, you wonder, is just for the money, his life? Read more.

Yes, No, Maybe

by Jessica Droeger

"Two o'clock, blond hair, brown shirt. No." Read more.

Three-Part Harmony

by Robin Fay-McNair, Kyana Hansson, and Lisa Plantico Carlsson

6 p.m. -- Before the Dance at Nikki's House

Tell me I'm okay.
Love me as I am.
Let me go.

I pleaded inside my head. (Why do I always have to keep it to myself?) Read more.

Excavation

by Deirdre Abrahamsson

It was the year of the rat. And of the mosquito. Of the West Nile variety. Quite a long distance for it to fly all the way to NYC. But why not? New York was booming, and the city was teeming with all sorts of representatives along the evolutionary scale. Construction was rampant. But before new structures could be built, old ones had to be torn down. Torn down to make room for taller, sleeker, more modern buildings. Lower Manhattan was awash with gated fencing and scaffolding. And rats. Read more.