by Calvin Gimpelevich

When the doctors told me that I would lose all sensation, that the procedure required unhooking my nerves and repasting the flesh, and I wouldn’t have breasts but a flat, what they call masculine, chest with a little red line to mark out my pecs, the subtraction, and I’d be able to walk on the beach with my shirt off, to go to the gym, to show my senseless dead nipples in public, I decided against the basic needle and thread, for them, the doctors, that is the surgeon and his assistant, to use velcro instead.
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by Tonisha Robinson
She sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of The Tinted Tea Room, scribbling furiously in a tatty old notebook. He saw her there every Sunday, hunched over, tongue protruding slightly in concentration, barely ever looking up from her notes. Continue Reading →

by Melissa Fitzgerald

If I had to decide, I’d say my biggest regret was the flimsy skirt I put on before going on this stupid trip to Stacy’s cottage. In doing so, I doomed myself to die in a flimsy mini skirt. When I fall down dead, the skirt will inevitably flop up and reveal my red lacy underwear. Then the first thing whatever man—and I’m sure it will be a man—who happens upon my body will see is my red lacy underwear. And that’s how I’ll be remembered. Continue Reading →

by Elly Jarvis
you know you should trust your first impressions. i never knew much about psychopaths before i loved my first italian. now i know plenty. Continue Reading →

by Sharon Mertins

Washing up liquid, tent, sneakers, movie soundtracks, beer…

I died last night. I have no recollection of the accident that killed me, if there actually was one, but I died. Of that I’m sure. Continue Reading →