Issue 15 / Fall 2018 The hum and swoosh of the ventilator echo constantly in the small room in the ICU. My 37-year-old husband, Michael, lies as if asleep—his eyes closed, his face rosy and serene, his injury invisible. A thick, white bandage swathes his head....
Issue 15 / Fall 2018 I was determined to be a model grandmother. Less than two years ago, my charming but guarded and somewhat anxiety-prone son, Zach, finally married Becky, his gem of a girlfriend. And three months ago, they had their first child. When they...
Issue 15 / Fall 2018 When I received my high school aptitude tests results, smuggling drugs wasn’t one of the vocations listed. “Honey, we’re home!” I was startled awake by Danny yelling when he and Steve entered the hotel room; smells of exhaust fumes, fresh...
Issue 14 / Summer 2018 My eyes were still adjusting to life in LA, to the void of stars in a navy sky, to the helicopter and airplane lights hovering above, to the brown haze always on the horizon, when the phone calls started. The phone calls usually came late...
Issue 13 / Spring 2018 I believe Misha may be dying. It is hard to tell. He weaves like a drunken sailor, hind feet slithering out from under him on the wood floor. He’d lost a third of his body weight when he went into the hospital two weeks ago; now that he’s...
