Category: Memoir & Essay

Anger

I hear her moving upstairs. At first I thought I caught her in time, but as I could tell by the sound of the floorboards she had probably been up longer than I realized. It was worse than I was expecting—the…

Eating My Pain Away

— Melanie Barry — A Philosophical Short Story of Foodism and the Fat Biatch  Yea, so I’m a fat biatch. And yes, that’s “biatch” with an “a.” It’s become my signature spelling and allows me to refer to people (women,…

In Memory

“He shouldn’t be smoking cigarettes,” I grumbled. I couldn’t see her face, just the auburn curls scrunched against her crown, but the pause in conversation hung between us like a strained chord. “I don’t need your opinion right now,” she…

Sometimes I Cry Into My Coffee

See, grief is stealthy. That’s what no one tells you.  The first time you suffer a real loss—a deep, significant loss—you really have no idea what it is going to do to you. I was 25 years old when one…

Opening a Bank Account

After I moved into Agra, land of the Taj Mahal, opening a local bank account became imperative. I had all the documents required to prove I am an Indian citizen and was confident it would only take a few minutes…

George & Gracie

— Jason Imber — When he first saw her, she looked smaller than she ever had looked before. Her body was quiet and motionless, her face without expression. Her breathing was shallow but regular. “We had to sedate her to…

Anger

It was a simple exercise. Take a raw egg, write down the name of who or what you are angry at, and chuck said egg against a tree. An exercise designed to help release your anger in a (safe) physical…

See the Amalfi Coast

— Frances M. Thompson — The heat smacks us in the face as we descend from the plane on rickety, plastic steps. In front of me, Martin raises his face to the sun as though he’s never seen it before, or…

What Bugs You

— Elizabeth Dello Russo — It’s 10:40 pm on a Monday night at The Roxy, and I’ve caught myself mid-smile, creating a memory. You know those moments—the ones that create an almost visceral, primal feeling that stirs your guts around, twisting…

Eyes

— Ian Sherr — Her eyes are terrified; she doesn’t know where she is or what’s going on. But at the same time, they’re empty, like there’s nothing behind them anymore. They’re just there. That’s the only way I can…