Trigger

Up north she took her daughter for a walk to see the woods. Their host’s big yellow dog came along. The snow was deep. The dog was off and ranging. She crept under a fir tree and showed her

At midnight there was a knock on our door, and though our hallmates often knocked at this hour

The film was a Disney re-release, full of rollicking creatures with wide-flung arms emitting human sounds through smiles that hummed and flickered like radio speakers.  Blake was too drunk to follow what was going on, but he ate his popcorn and drifted in and out of sleep, and the things were laughing and singing to him. 

We stepped into a washroom and I looked longer at the ring on her finger. “It’s just for starters.” She opened the tap of the industrial sink and drank sideways, water slipping down her chin. She

Out there on the hill she rides that old horse back and forth through the afternoon. I see her from the window. I think she's trying to kill it. The old man walks behind me again and I can feel his

Her husband had grown the jalapeños in the backyard along with shy heirloom tomatoes and a few anemic cucumbers. He’d tried lettuce and even Sugar Baby watermelons but, at the first sign of ripeness,

I ate the steak violently because that was how I loved, and a love this intense must always be met with more.

 1. Pull the Release

Before opening the trunk, consider the world outside of it. Think of the miles of hot asphalt rolling underneath you. Think of the many men in the many other cars who might

Tori hugged the tree and went home and immediately started petting her dog

The gas station sat on the corner like a tasteless cheeseburger.

Dr. Sandoval asked if I was planning on having children.

The story is usually backstabbing of some kind.

The old woman takes another bite.

Then it came time to open said package of Twizzlers

funny how the stars line up.

She tore off pieces and kept them in her mouth.

He was taking swigs out of a bottle of Listerine.

Although I guess it really started on Saturday morning.

The Boy was born poor and continued to be poor.

This is a meaningful story about the intestinal parasite I picked up while living in Salt Lake City, in Ted Bundy’s house. 

A bald eagle was shot directly above my head, mid-flight, and its feathers rested gently on my scalp for the rest of geological time.

I was so broke I went to see my mother.

Esther rises and pulls the cord and moves to the front of the bus, whereupon it brakes and kneels.

Susan bought a gun that shot doors into things. The doors were small and led to incredible places.

We receive phone calls inviting us to the ocean, (a beach day!) but of course we can no longer fit in the sea. We are too big for open waters.