What the Humans Call Heartache
by Jiksun Cheung
The egg crunched in her fist, yolk oozing between her fingers onto the kitchen counter. She wiped away the mess, dropped the empty carton into the whirring garbage disposal chute, and patted down her apron in the doorway to the dining room.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Astrid, “but we seem to have run out of eggs.”
On the Getting of Husbands and the Spawning of Children
by Sophie Sparrow
Deep in the woods, where the sun’s light never reaches to break apart the shadows, through a thicket of brambles and stinging shrubs, there stands a house. It is not made of gingerbread, nor does it walk on chicken’s legs. But it is, for want of a better word, home.
The Early Teleporter: A Successful Use
by Kimberly BMW Wade
Perhaps we are all translated, transformed in / our travels, turned in our journeys, changed / in our exchanges every day. But I am broken.
by P. H. Low
that storm was no accident. I raised my hands / & the clouds tumbled in, lightning lashing / the sky’s proud prow
To Seek a Fairy Sovereign [Diptych]
by Xuan Nguyen
There is nothing more beyond the door. / There is no kingdom of gods, no wonder, no more.