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December 3, 2021 | Fiction

Daughter of Ants

Natasha Ayaz

His voice, crisp like apple vodka, poured into the September air.

Daughter of Ants photo
3 Fruitflies photo

December 2, 2021 | Poetry

3 Fruitflies

Tyler Friend

Fruitfly [64], [76], and [77]

Because Mid-Meal, My Mother Says “Now Don’t Write About This”; Or, The Tyranny of We photo

December 1, 2021 | Nonfiction

Because Mid-Meal, My Mother Says “Now Don’t Write About This”; Or, The Tyranny of We

Sandra Beasley

But to write We thought is a fiction.
We always felt that…the moment you write this phrase, you have lied.

Act V photo

November 30, 2021 | Poetry

Act V

Evy Shen

I ask you to toss me something heavier than your name
to hold, less perishable than the peonies stolen
fresh as bruises.