Flash Nonfiction Theatrics I rip my mask off. Distressed, you might call my expression, if you weren’t so fucking focused on checking your goddamn phone, I am having a moment here. A figure joins me on stage. It’s just me with a megaphone, I didn’t really have time to hire someone new.
Flash Nonfiction Bad Habitus Dad had developed a taste for tobacco by the time he was 14. It would be a stolid companion throughout his life. As a child, I thought his ability to hold entire conversations with a lit roll-up in his mouth was a kind of superpower.
Flash Nonfiction 6075 W. Fulton St And when I got home I remembered that the door was unlocked not politically but because the lock had been broken since my tenure there had started. Just like the oven and microwave.
Nominated for Best of the Net 2024 The Couple in 5F It is nice to know my neighbors though, even just a little bit. Knowing your neighbors, even just a little bit, makes NYC apartment living less like living in a big empty box with whispers of occupancy and more like living in a place teeming brimming spinning simmering with people.
Flash Nonfiction Ariel I don't even hesitate. From the other side of the cross-legged circle, she smiles at me.
Flash Nonfiction Becoming Linda Ties that Linda’s beauty hid well. Locked away tight in the pit of her perfectly flat stomach. Eyes set like topaz jewels masking the truth. No one with skin like bronze had troubles. No, not Linda.
Flash Nonfiction Only the Good (Guinea Pigs) Die Young That gruesome adolescent heartbreak you go through again and again and again and then evolves into real heartbreak, the kind you can’t just shrug off as kid feelings. It starts here.
Flash Nonfiction Questions after you said I died a million times in you Who sings honeyed dirges for the dead while their warm hands make love with someone else’s warm hands?
Flash Nonfiction In it Sorrow a monotonous tune, like the weeping of this lonesome cunt. I cry because I am two hours behind his time zone always, and maybe that means I am also two hours behind grieving us always.
Flash Nonfiction Draft 1/Draft 5 I write creative nonfiction, and that means that I lay in your arms and think about how I would describe it, our bodies next to each other in the dark while it storms outside, how I ask you to leave the fan off so we can hear it.
Flash Nonfiction A response to, in conversation with, with regards to, The Entire [REDACTEDRED] of [REDAC TE DRE DACTE] Long spidery clockwork orange lashes and you hate to be shushed like that by your mum or other grown-ups or anyone. And you will still not know what sex is for years, years after you did it even.
Flash Nonfiction Spineless I swam. I dove under, let go of the float and remembered my body. I’ve been obsessed with invertebrates and wanted to be spineless. I came back to the surface and swam to the concrete retaining wall at the edge of the lake to pull myself out of the water.
Flash Nonfiction I'm Sorry We're Getting Married I love you, Harry. And I’m excited that we can be married for most of our lives. What does that mean, though, when we can already love each other for most of our lives whether the government is involved or not.
Flash Nonfiction Rangoon “I know those guys,” my father would say. “They’re just a glorified referral service.”
Flash Nonfiction We read to know we are not alone, But I told this car full of friends this truth I’d never even spoken to myself.
Flash Nonfiction It Started with a Feeling, and Now My Boyfriend and I are Sitting in a Clinic for a Pre-Conception Consultation, and I Can’t Stop Worrying About My Unknown Future The doctor says I won’t have many changes since I’ve been on hormones for so long, but still—
Flash Nonfiction Hometown Tour And in the daydream, he smiles, he smiles big and a lot, he's happy, I can't believe how happy, over such small things, and he says, that's cool, oh that's cool too, oh that's so cool...
Flash Nonfiction Dad's Toe Later, while I’m telling Jamie the story of how Dad chopped his toe off, I get two texts from Dad’s phone. The first one is an overexposed close-up of a pearl white bone surrounded by what looks like gray and white chicken flesh. The second text says: “This is my toe.”
L.M. Cole Has A Celebrity Crush Smoke When I was a kid, one of my special interests was Old Hollywood. This was my parents’ fault for allowing me exposure to the genre.
L.M. Cole Has A Celebrity Crush Madmartigan in the Mercedes He was like a man but not quite. He was a fictional character that vanished from my view when I pressed “stop” or “eject.” In this way, he was better than a man.
Flash Nonfiction If Only for a Moment I found myself somewhere between pleasure and fear. Surely that unflinching stare was searching for the very essence of my soul.
![A response to, in conversation with, with regards to, The Entire [REDACTEDRED] of [REDAC TE DRE DACTE]](https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1593705366178-d611f3fa0c2f?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&ixid=MnwxMTc3M3wwfDF8c2VhcmNofDh8fHN0ZWFtcHVua3xlbnwwfHx8fDE2ODIxODIwMjY&ixlib=rb-4.0.3&q=80&w=600)
