Fiction & Poetry

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We know the magician doesn’t actually make the card disappear, but where does it go?

How do I explain to my iPhone that I don’t just want to close the screen displaying Twitter, I want to turn off the program altogether?

a girl behind me on facetime:
“i have like, such PTSD
from that awful salad

Todd sat behind the counter of the Days Inn on a dreary, drizzly winter afternoon checking the night log.

I changed the sheets and threw the whites in the laundry.

Here’s a story ‘bout a fella
—Goes by Whitey, don’t ya’ know?—

David feels good today.

I found the Tramadol. He’s gently
twitching. Cries a little.

The Gestapo master gets carelessly on the second level train.

Halysynfaxian matchstruck: