Volume 14, Nonfiction The Pinch Volume 14, Nonfiction The Pinch

Night Shower

“I’m paying attention to the tornado watch that may become a tornado warning across all of north Mississippi. It was calm outside when I came to bed, but in Mississippi in spring the weather can change that fast.”

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Volume 14, Fiction The Pinch Volume 14, Fiction The Pinch

Rotten Fruit

“She is face down on the table as the hospital machine whirrs closer, and she thinks: she could lose them, these things that she carries, and it would not matter anywhere near as much as she’s told it would matter, though that may be because her breasts have never mattered much to her. “

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Fiction, Volume 14 The Pinch Fiction, Volume 14 The Pinch

Lullaby

“It was dark. Cold. I opened my eyes, and it was still dark. Wood at my sides. Softness in the crook of my left arm. My right hand touched a ceiling overhead.”

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Nonfiction, Volume 14 The Pinch Nonfiction, Volume 14 The Pinch

As Beasts We Travel

Traveling with you is being hungry, always. We prowl the sites like jackals, waiting for our chance to jump. Hot, sugary churros chased down by beer after beer at the ancient bar behind the new colonialist temple, and the ruins of the older Aztec one where we ducked in to escape the rain and warm our July-cooled bones, and stayed until we were as dry and comfortable as the dogs we are, our conversation the only fire, and the music, and the only other people in the place another couple, she with heavy, tightly constrained hips and red, plum-red, hair.

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