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They aren’t the most attractive boys at school—not smarter or more stylish and certainly no more articulate. Their appeal is a mystery to anyone who isn’t under their spell.

The problem was I’d forgotten about the change in altitude. The grief counselor had suggested a getaway, so I fled the Alleghenies for the Rockies and the guest bedroom of my best college friend on a quiet block in Denver.

I believe it now—I’d be a fool not to—but that doesn’t mean I agree with it.

It was a franchise, the Prez thing, but one as secret as the mob.

The blonde girl I liked made a scooping motion with her hands while saying things like ‘it’s not even that late’ and ‘come on, come on’ and ‘it’ll be soooo much fun’ and ‘let’s go you fucking piece of shit.’

Okay, so there’s that sound again, and you know it isn’t Tommy or Lindsey trying to scare you, because they’ve been asleep for over an hour and you’re certain the sound is coming from the basement

My friend takes caffeine pills between classes and shakes in the bathroom, on the floor under the sinks.

I kissed Jesus up the neck until his hearing aid caught my gums like a chicken bone.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time playing Candy Crush Saga on the old iPhone Jan gave me while watching TV.

Nell did not consider herself a thief. All sixteen lovely pups were better off in her care. She kept them in a large house with a sprawling yard, surrounded by a sturdy fence.

The items on the list had come to her at random as she washed a dish or plucked a hair from her chin or put gas in the car.

Even his sacred biosphere (of anime, video games, Oedipal and teen porn, poststructuralist psychobabble, and grad school fellowships) can’t save him from the critical intervention of the collapsing world.

He removed a wad of fabric from under the bed, pulling on boxers and an Anthrax t-shirt. I winced at the Anthrax logo—I knew better than to fuck guys into thrash metal—too late now.

I wondered what my mother would say about the gun, and then I wondered it out loud. M gave me a look I was too worn out to interpret.

I had never considered practicing polyamory, so when my girlfriend suggested it to me, I didn’t know what to say.

Her parents, Mary and Don, were overcome first by grief and then by caution: they purchased fire extinguishers and flame retardant blankets, put the fire department on speed dial and plugged the holes in the nursery wall with corks, so that the angry neighbors could not look in and make a spectacle of their only child. Julia was their everything

Some hours pass, and nobody has impressed her

I didn’t say sorry, because it was hard to explain. Sorry I felt the way I did, absolutely. But not sorry I did it. I tried to make him understand.

Before we entered the most raved about amusement park in the world, we went into the woods nearby . . . 

John’s hands are on the wheel, very still, and he’s looking straight ahead at the dark yellow lines of Route 66.

This story is a fresh take on the proverbial phrase: go the extra mile for someone else. 

It starts like this, the saddest story I know does. It starts with me and it starts with my son.

Jack Beauregard divides his time into zeroes and ones. He divides his time between mundane tasks and the question of whether he is worth loving. 

We go to a bar for lunch that serves free candy.