by Mohammadreza Fayaz The layover at Heathrow Airport felt interminable. Another lengthy flight to San Francisco awaited, and Ahmad’s back throbbed with discomfort. He strode past an array of quaint, colorful shops, their coffee aromas tantalizing his senses. The faces of the people around him bore a diversity he had never encountered before, marking a
by Maxim Matusevich Perched against a fluffy pile of IKEA pillows Nora watched the camels cross into her field of vision, framed by the glass panel of the balcony door. The room was bathed in an early evening quiet, the pale rays refracted off the ceramic floor tiles and played havoc with the otherwise stately
by Toby Tucker Hecht The admin aide who handed me the empty cardboard box said, “I’m sure you’ll find something soon, Julia. Much better than this job.” And then under her breath, “Sons of bitches!” I had only a few personal items, none with much sentimental meaning, but I tossed them in the box anyway
by Robert Pope Sometime in the year 1970, I received an invitation to interview for a teaching post in Rio Dell, a small Northern California town built on logging on the Eel River in Humboldt County. I had my best pants and shirt, a sports coat and tie laid out in the trunk and planned
by Charlie Fish “Good evening, Mr. Citrone, please sit down.” The man sat on the other side of the desk was dressed in a suit so sharp it could cut a diamond. This was Robin Murgatroyd – the Robin Murgatroyd – agitator, seer, demigod. He looked at me with such intensity, such authority, I don’t
by Jo-Anne Rosen He knew it would be a mistake to let Bella drive. She was hard on cars and his was past its prime. “You don’t want to drive all day, Charles,” she said. “How far is it to Joshua Tree? You’ll need a break.” “I’ll be fine,” he said. “You need a holiday
by Bill Kitcher As I often do, I was sitting at the bar, writing. I thought I had a pretty good idea so I was focused, and didn’t notice as the bar filled up and I was surrounded. When I looked up to order another beer, I noticed the crowd, particularly the guy sitting beside
by Sarah Sarai i. Someone is tapping on the professional wood of Lucy’s professional workstation on the eighteenth floor of the professional law firm. She looks up to see a tall, skinny man, a legal-looking man, a lawyer, in fact. He wears a loose black suit, a suit not picked off an $80-or-less rack, yet
by Melinda Thomsen Inspired by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s Jane Avril Dancing (1891-1892) Henri hangs out in the corner drinking absinthe and sketching. Look at this sketch of me in lines. He throws lines down as fast as he tosses drinks down his throat. Remember the famous poster he did called La Goulue? Now his placards sell
by Les Bohem “Someone like you should not be allowed to start any fires.” — David Bowie, “Win” My friend Peter Woolcott was incredibly good-looking. The great grandson of a duke, he had the classic features of a prince, with a combination of arrogance and vulnerability that was amazingly appealing. He did not carry himself