Cat Rituals
by Alex Behr
- Please empty the litter box. He pees a lot. Play the game called “Find the prize” every day with the scooper thing. There are lots of prizes!
Sunday Stories: “Cat Rituals”
Sunday Stories: “Righteous Kiss”
Righteous Kiss
by Joe Aguilar
I’m standing in a musty side room beside the cafeteria at my five-year high school reunion, looking at our friend the goldfish, when I start to wonder about kissing.
Sunday Stories: “I Went to Paris Because I’m a Writer Now”
I Went to Paris Because I’m a Writer Now
by Kobi Ansong
My phone buzzes. A text from the homie: Ay bruh, you in Paris reading books? lmao
I wander over footbridges and cobblestone streets.There’s perpetual cigarette aroma, but you don’t mind it. I read Ernest Hemingway’s memoir, Moveable Feast, about his misadventures bumming around the City of Light, getting drunk with Picasso and F. Scott Fitzgerald, and that was enough for me.
Sunday Stories: “Hans and Gretchen”
Hans and Gretchen
by Terena Elizabeth Bell
Once upon a time, there was a set of twins named Hans and Gretchen who lived on New York’s Upper East Side. Not the Yorkville part of the Upper East Side where the poor and old people lived, but Carnegie Hill off Park Avenue. They lived in two 735 square-foot apartments that were side by side in a doorman building their parents bought for them after they dropped out of Columbia.
Sunday Stories: “Gunsmith”
Gunsmith
by Henry Luzzatto
When I was six years old, I got suspended from school for pretending a stick was a gun. I remember pointing it at Ms. Gore, that reedy, perm-wearing teacher with too-large glasses, and imagining a burst from the stick firing into her head, the first bullet impacting right above her left eyebrow and blossoming out of the back of her skull, the second shearing off her bulbous nose, and the final blasting into her jaw so it hung off like the last piece of meat on a lamb chop bone.
Sunday Stories: “Selfies”
Selfies
by X.C. Atkins
When I woke up, I reached for my phone. I really hated this about myself. This gross reflex.
Sunday Stories: “Those Days Are Over”
Those Days Are Over
by Steve Anwyll
Drivers treat rue Saint-Jacques like a race track. Waiting at the corner S hoists a bag meant for camping on his shoulders. The weight is meant for a younger man. All his dirty clothes. Blankets too. Ash asked him when the last time he washed them and he didn’t have a good answer.
Sunday Stories: “A Midnight Trip to Matamoros”
A Midnight Trip to Matamoros
by Elliott Turner
You turned on the local Fox station for a weather update as you put your espresso maker on the stove. You forgot to turn off the television or change channels before the white man in the bowtie in a clip began to explain what is wrong with America.