After All Disintegrating as an Active Mode
Helen McClory
People are still here! Said the dog’s eyes.
People are still here! Said the dog’s eyes.
She hands me a carved pineapple. Big and heavy.
OUR CHEESE FRIES WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!
Moments before we depart for his fifty-fourth birthday bowling extravaganza, King-King decides he would rather eat lunch at Fat Nancy’s
In the open office, everyone has questions. Now you have questions.
I took to wearing your ring again because everybody likes dealing with a woman who’s married. They want a winner.
You empty your bank account of the $1,326 and sink it all into Facebook advertisements.
I want Paula to feel the pain I’ve felt, the pain of being left behind, and not by someone who has died, which would be less painful, in my opinion. Because when someone leaves you in life, they’re still out there; they just have a new life you’re not a part of.
Tomorrow he will crash from the sugar buzz. I will not look at him with eyes that suggest I told you so, which is part of love.
If we add three points to Athleticism, we have three left to spend on our son. We already have 8 points toward Intelligence. Virtue is a 7, Athleticism would be an 8 if we add those last three.
Larry didn’t try to talk to me, but whenever the silence got too thick, he would squeeze my knee or knead my shoulder. I was pretty fucked up on cold medicine, and it felt like he was grabbing a hold of my bones.
Ivan told me that the minute you step off the plane in America they hand you money. I keep waiting for someone to hand me money. No one has handed me money.
He watched the door, and saw that it wanted to open.
She had grown up and now lived in a cold climate that encouraged looking down.
Yoda sat atop the wreckage of his escape pod, still creaking from skidding into the murky swamp hours prior
The day my brother died, my mom ran naked in the street.
The guy at the hardware store convinced me to buy a bag of concrete mix.
I remember playing some songs at four in the morning and asking if you liked them. What the songs sounded like doesn’t matter now. I only knew a little about songs back then but I know a bit more
A few of the Greater Mosquitoes jogged by with their boards across the flats, all chest and teeth and bleach-brown hair and headed joyous to the break. They ran full on down the slope, stepped high
It’s weird at first. The tenants through the wall. Inhabiting what used to be one-half of their home. The clanging pots and toilet flushes, heavy footsteps. The second truck in the driveway beside
"[Her Lesser Work] is a collection of mordant and formally inventive stories circling themes of, let’s say, desire and escape within repressive structures."
-Walker Caplan, Literary Hub