Issue 24 Fiction
Under Any Other Sun
by Kevin Corbin
I SAT BACK exhausted and half-nauseous from digging through Lester’s cabinets for anything I could float on for a while and coming up empty. It’s the most I’d moved in two days, since I gave a dirty drop at the parole office and came stumbling to Lester’s for sanctuary. Half the stitches in my gut had pulled, and tiny blood freckles bloomed along the hem of my shirt. I took it off and put it back on inside out. Then I noticed the second stain and realized I’d done this once already. “Christ, ain’t you got anything?” I said.
by Eva Langston
I’M ON THE balcony at a party, flirting with a guy named Jeff. He has dark eyes and a slightly crooked nose, and he stands with his arms crossed, looking me up and down and making somewhat insulting comments about my appearance. He's mean, and I find that sexy. I think about what my therapist would say then I put her out of my mind.
“And what the hell is this?” Jeff plucks at my blue cardigan. “Are you trying to look like a school marm?”
“I’m cold,” I say, pouting my lip.