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Note from the Editor, Issue 4

As a child, July often meant a road trip with the family. We’d pile into the station wagon—a solid blue, Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser which I later totaled in a collision with a wood-paneled Dodge Caravan carting a bleeding child to the ER. Everyone was fine. The child had dropped a knife on his foot. His...

Two Dollars to Show

I am a lonely old man in the corner booth of an all-night diner. On the table before me is a plate greasy with fried eggs and hash browns, a plate I’ll eventually wipe clean with two slices of toast. It is midnight. I am studying a week-old Racing Form. I will make my selections,...

By Truth Told

“Your daddy got the TB, huh?” Lori Lane said. “Yep,” I replied. Lori dragged the toe of her shoe across the dirt. “My daddy had it, but his doctor cleared it up in just two visits.” I studied Lori’s eyes as she bragged her daddy had been cured. You see, I always knew that girl...

Adapted from Rabbi Nachman’s “The Rabbi and His Son”

He had a little room in his father’s house where he used to sit like the little room in which I sit, bare, featureless, but with a Samsung laptop and a Canon printer and a picture of Ma and Pa Bunny from Broken Toyland so I can look up occasionally  and be reminded that degradation...

The Dying Composer

Having been discovered on the floor of his loge after a Wagner opera, the dying composer is snatched up by friends and taken to his town house. The stern doctor arrives, applies the stethoscope, gives the gathered fellow composers a grave look, and takes one of them aside. A shake of the head. The composer...

Reckless Biking

While riding my bicycle, I almost hit a police car that is idling on the street. “Take it easy,” a cop says to me through his window. I realize I’m breaking the law, not by almost hitting a police car, but by not following other rules. I don’t have a bell on my handlebars, I’m...

Now You Know How It Is

My girlfriend—get this—keeps asking me to take her back to my place. Aren’t you rushing things? I say. You may be twenty-eight but I’m nineteen. We do have a good time, don’t we? We walk up and down the Strand, enjoy the sea air and go into stores, like Colonel Bubbie’s, where they sell the...