Contributed By: Maggie Glover
One side offered, believe or not: daisies. Their orange bowties and Monroe piercings
made a hundred cities in the grass.
The other side: the knowledge of grasshoppers, how to jump rope—they wore sneakers that looked like sneakers, slogan pins like Shy in the Tooth.
The battle raged. After careful thought, I arranged for both teams to break my heart.
When I told them how, we were all surprised.
Return to table of contents for Issue 3 Fall 2010
I am eating Greek salad at Panera when my phone rings. I don’t usually pick up, but it’s been a week since my biopsy and I’m still sore and my right boob is bruised black and yellow and I’ve been waiting days that have stretched on like 600 miles of bad road. My boob looks […]
Behind Creation another story lurks, explains, complicates. The first question of the world is Form. The question does not begin with “what,” but with “how.” What philosophical and theological theories may gloss when considering ex nihilo as a creative crux is that Nothing must first exist for creation to occur in it. Tzimtzum, in midrashic and kabbalistic thought, […]
[Editors’ Note: The following story won the This Magazine Fiction Prize and was reprinted in the author’s 2002 short fiction collection, Hunger. It is reprinted with permission here.] My husband’s idea of bliss is to be able to go back to when we first met, when he was a man and I was a woman. We weren’t kids, […]
