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Long Legs by Zain Saeed

Man, woman, man, woman Woman fire, man water Man, woman, man, woman And sand. This was the first “poem” ever recorded after we found our language once again. It took us almost six hundred years, six centuries to figure out we could do other things with words than use them to ask each other if…

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Finite Theories by Daniel De Santiago

Thick tiredness grows on the people that turn the lights out late, and the morning Judies that stalk Starbucks at 4:00 a.m…just before they open. Chapped businessmen and women grow moans from outside while emerald-aproned soldiers ready their arms. Depressed merchants sell worn blankets and moon rocks for the first time over by the corner…

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The Day the Dogs Died by Bree Barton

We probably deserved it. For years we grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, snapped at them for scraping chicken bones off the asphalt with their tongues. We hated bathing them, hated their wet-rug stench, hated chasing tumbleweeds of fur from corner to corner of our houses. Of course there were certain things we…

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The Ferry by Paul M. Feeney

“I’m telling you, there’s no way I’m going on a plane…there’ve been too many accidents in the news…I mean, reported by the news and, and…I just hate the things and that’s that!” Geraldine looked at her husband and sighed. She was sure Frank had gotten over this fear but clearly not. All the recent high-profile…

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Feeding the Family by Roy Dorman

Her young are hungry and she leaves them with her mate while she goes hunting. He’s good with them and always keeps a watchful eye out for predators. She decides to go to the mall and get a variety of fast food from the chain restaurants in the food court. She’ll need some money, so…

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Patient 608A by Michelle Chen

Mount Valdis. When I first heard the name it sounded like a real nice place to be. I imagined a mountain shrouded with mist surrounded by swarms of gorillas and so many colorful birds and log cabins that they’d stack up, one on top of the other, and just about make everybody who went there burst into tears.…

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Dead Air by Molly Howard

His kiosk is just outside the cheap jewelry store, a lone island dividing the tireless stream of people marching by. It is packed with blinking LED lights and mechanical whirring, a beacon in the gloom of the mall’s creeping motel scent. He demonstrates his wares—flying a remote control helicopter over the heads of the passing…