Prose

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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Evangeline Too

By Simon Linington Evangeline called from Mexico City and said what she had to say, “Goodbye Simon.” I’ve heard it before. In front of me on a wicker stool my packet of cigarettes. I pick it up with my right hand and turn it over to see a picture of a small boy looking at …

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The Vessel

By Alice Kaltman When Doris saw the swan earrings twinkling in the window of the jewelry store, she became a woman possessed. The kind of shop she’d never imagine entering, much less buying anything from, but here she was nose-pressed, heart thrumming, and here were her wind-chapped hands on the door, her body beelining past …

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Idaho Fell

BY JEN HIRT When I moved to Idaho Falls in August 2005, I couldn’t take my new home seriously. It was a 75-unit apartment complex with a name meant to evoke grandeur and respite: Shadow Canyon. Two-story buildings ringed a parking lot and a grassy area, and tall Ponderosa pines provided the aesthetics that vinyl …

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