
In This Issue

Karen was, in that moment, nothing, emptiness. She was oblivion.
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Like any daredevil
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I gouge with my heels for a wilder ride, for more.
The Human Comedy: Four new six-word stories by Sherman Alexie.
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You know whatever you’ve come looking for you probably won’t find.
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There’s nowhere he can kiss where she hasn’t been kissed by the sun.
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My husband looks at me. I’m afraid he knows I am my mother’s daughter.
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Only one constant existed: I wrote. Writing was my center of gravity.
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Jackpot
Polly paid sixty-five thousand dollars to leave China and come to New York, and four years later she still owed the loan shark more than half that. To leave New York,
all she had to do was pay forty dollars for a paper stub from a storefront window beneath the Manhattan Bridge, after Leon had gone.
So many buses lurked and huffed beneath the bridge. Men and women with the voices of military generals flanked these six-wheeled animals, shouting at anyone carrying a bag who dared to cross, announcing the names of destination cities like horses at a racetrack.
Wa-shing-ton? Philleee? Bossiton? Atlanta?
Chicago! Cleveland! Richmond! Balll-ti-more!more
Why Wane,
Why Not Wax?
A line on my computer screen
equals an EKG of a bus bounce—
okay, I dropped it—signals
break on a faux horizon
of oughts and ones slamming
comes to, dead.


