Issue 11 / Fall 2017 In the summer you can really feel the grain fields nearby—stalks bobbing in the breeze making ripples in the warm air. You see cobblestone alleys and facades of magenta stone like recurring visual cues to let you know that this is where you...
Issue 11 / Fall 2017 I say yes! Sí! It’s true! Es la verdad! The World Cup is coming to our little desert paradise! We love our basketball, but we love our soccer just the same! For us it’s life, for them it’s just a game. The people are dancing in the avenue...
Issue 11 / Fall 2017 When I escaped from an intensive wilderness therapy program, I got labeled a “run risk” and my diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder with a history of suicidal behavior labeled me a “self-harm risk.” Both made me utterly unappealing to all...
Issue 11 / Fall 2017 When I was fifteen, I met the mechanic. The plane touched down in Atlanta in July, and my hair was still windblown from the Colorado Rockies. My mother’s words echoed as I stepped onto the tarmac: I’m bringing someone with me. I saw him...
Issue 11 / Fall 2017 Finder’s keepers, loser’s weepers “Mommy, can I keep this?” asks six-year-old Simone. “Please.” She’s holding a scrap of apple-green wrapping paper with irregular-shaped red hearts suspended in air. It was left over from wrapping a...
