Non-Fiction

69

By Sam Farahmand WINE is to the right, the way wine always was the italics of alcohol, while whiskey and all of the other spirits are to the left, though I don’t see the sign for them, but I already know beer is always in the way back where it’s the coldest, so I walk …

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Twins

By Jennifer McGaha One sunny, crisp, fall day, my husband and I set out hiking on a five-mile loop in the Pisgah National Forest near Pink Beds picnic area. The sky was Colorado blue, the forest floor blanketed with yellow. About halfway along the trail, we stopped to rest on a log near the river. …

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Back Home

By Ben Tanzer There was this boy with his head in your lap. Which is not exactly what it sounds like, though depending on how that sounds to you, it isn’t exactly not that either. Which is to say that he isn’t a little boy, you have those now and you know what they look …

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In the Making

By Kari Nguyen It is October 2013. Quintessential New England fall. Our afternoon walk is slow as we pass under trees already turned for the season. There is hardly a breeze, and the leaves above us hang suspended, not quite ready to descend save for the few scattered on the sides of the road. The …

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And Am I Born To Die?

By Brian Gersten Between I-295 and the Penobscot Bay, past the Hussey’s General Store sign that reads “Guns – Wedding Gowns – Cold Beer”, down narrow potholed dirt roads lacking signposts or street lamps, over a steel bog bridge, and among fiery oaks and pines, rests Karen Keller’s square farmhouse.  The house teeters on a …

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Family Dinner the Week of the Connecticut Shooting on the Sunday Jake Adam York Died

By Michael Copperman We did not speak of the tragedy, but we came together as we often don’t manage in busy weeks.  My Japanese mother shows her love by overproviding, making the meals her mother made in her youth, cold salad of long rice in shoyu and rice vinegar and sesame oil stacked with slivered …

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The Toot

By Dean Kostos Trees along the highway spiraled through the eyepiece of my kaleidoscope—our car speeding home to Cinnaminson, New Jersey. Mom and Dad had gone for marriage counseling in Philadelphia. My brother Phillip and I had tagged along. Dad shared something he’d read in a law journal, “New York cops use a technique when …

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