By Abby Melick / Flash /         The man writes her a love letter.   The man (married) writes her (his coworker) a love letter.   The man (who is married and has been for eight years) writes her (his best friend at work, the one who kept him sane during the merger last fall) a love letter (slipped into her company mailbox during work hours).   The man (married) asks her in the love letter if there’s any chance her feelings for him are as strong as his feelings for her. The ma

at the Nursing Home, Lock Ward By Eric Machan Howd / Poetry /         she begged me not to leave her moments after we first met as if I’d abandon her like all the others still in her life that won’t do  she cried though I told her my backyard is full of wild forget-me-nots and I’ve never had the heart to mow them over for sod their small blue stars hold every story I tell them

By Ines Rodrigues / Fiction /   “…for nothing is more unbearable, once one has it, than freedom.” James Baldwin (“Giovanni’s Room”)  ...

By Anthony Lee Head / Fiction / Only moments before, I had been driving towards a fiery ball glowing like a distant beacon on the...

By Eve Newstead / Fiction /   What they don’t tell you is that wedding season lasts years. If Maeve had known, she would have taken...

By Sarah Bradley / Fiction / She found the place without too much trouble, though she wouldn’t have known this was Chinatown if Charlie...

By Russ López / Fiction / Even before Orpheus’s band was hired to play at the Medianoche Saloon, the dance club was packed. The crowds...

By Nicole Buzzelli / First Place, 2023 Plentitudes Prize in Poetry / I do not wish to be saved from solitude. Bless me with it, a kiss...

By John Fried * for bf / Fiction / Louise sat at the bar, working on that day’s crossword, waiting for her date to arrive. He was late....

by Bella Bromberg / Poetry / I wanna go to the grocery store with you. In your presence, the mundane is an adventure too. I wanna run...

by Edward Belfar / Fiction / The community session convened at 8:00 each morning in the conference center, a low, rustic-looking,...

by Amanda Ganus / Fiction / Open When I Am Gone ​ My Honey, ​ If you are reading this, I am gone. If I am not gone yet and you have...