2   +   4   =  

Fiction

Wish You Were Here

I feel like I want to apologize for the quality of these postcards. I wish they had been better ones, and that I could have sent you images of sunsets and palm trees and dazzling flamingos.

The Bees

It was the first week into her second trimester, and here she was, smoking a cigarette and filling her stomach with bees.

How the Devil Finds Out

It happened on the corner of 147thand Miller, beneath the long branches of an oak hanging over the corner. It happened often enough— usually to white kids crossing U.S.1 in front of the University of Miami or other tourists on The Beach—but seldom in this residential area, and never on this intersection.