Issue 18 / Summer 2019 / Abortion Ban Protest Special Issue A group of men followed us down Broadway, the bustling honky tonk district in Nashville, Music City, U.S.A. They shouted to us: “Ladies, ladies, LAAADDDIIIIEES.” We stopped on the street corner and...
Issue 16 / Winter 2019 A person can only sit in her car for so long before the frigid November air sneaks in and tries to leach off her body heat. I looked at the small neon sign blaring Stone Tavern through the window, and then back at the front door, which...
Issue 16 / Winter 2019 I never felt as old as I did between the ages of twenty-seven and twenty-nine. Unhappily married, I was packing twenty extra pounds on my petite frame, wore shapeless hand-me-downs, and hid behind unflattering glasses. I was five years...
Issue 16 / Winter 2019 This piece is a continuation of Jon Epstein’s essay, “Shoving,” which appeared in Issue 15 of the Quarterly. * It was my first run. Inside me, I’d shoved 70 grams of the raciest Colombian coke three mom-and-pop,...
Issue 15 / Fall 2018 Grandpeg—that’s what we grandkids all call her—gave us gifts every time we drove the two hours to her house for a visit. Upon arrival, my brother and I would run to our beds, throw down our backpacks, and open presents wrapped in her...
