25 Fragments
25 Fragments

She doesn’t want me around the customers, so she assigns me the task of writing down every ISBN number in the store. While recording numbers, I listen to the formulaic pop music blasting through the store’s speakers and think about my ex-boyfriend—any of them—and how much I miss him. If I think about it, I miss everyone I’ve ever met. It takes me days, weeks, months—what feels like forever—to write all the numbers down. In fact, I’m positive there’s an alternate universe where I’m still only halfway done, watching the FedEx guy roll in more carts stacked with boxes for the impending fall semester while Taylor Swift plays throughout the store. There are so many alternate universes and all of them are terrifying.

Read More
Matthew HawkinsTSRSUMMER/FALL 2021 PREVIEW
The Smell of Every Kiss

This isn’t the story I wanted to tell, but every time I smell burning, I can’t help but picture the wigs my mother found under my bed when I was seventeen; the smell of hair ablaze on the stove; how I can’t help but smell that burning everywhere; how I can’t help but cook on a stove every day, every day, no matter how hard I try.

Read More
Medusa GomezScott TSR SullivanSUMMER/FALL 2021 PREVIEW
The Party Goers
The Party Goers

I was back up against the wall, trying to look like I belonged, when Julian Gould walked in. I’d heard stories of his own parties, late night and lawless, where he made people feel, with his disregard for tomorrow, like the hard work they were doing was not only serious and worthwhile but that it had desserts. We’d met once before—our introduction so brief I doubted he’d remember. I watched him notice me.

Read More
Halimah MarcusTSRSUMMER/FALL 2021 PREVIEW
Holy
Holy

Things had been disorienting for me in America. There were no rules. Nobody knew who I was. I was confused, myself. The streets were crowded and noisy, a dance floor under dim lights. Barefoot men ran around at dusk screaming.

I heard that Allen Ginsberg lived in the East Village too. I looked for a solitary figure in bars, his dark hair wild. I’d approach him, I would be bold and impressive. He was the one who could explain things to me.

Read More
Rosanna StaffaScott TSR SullivanSUMMER/FALL 2021 PREVIEW
House Beautiful

You are standing atop the highest hill on the island, affording sweeping vistas of the mighty Atlantic Ocean on one side and the gentler waters of Vineyard Sound on the other. An historic clapboard Methodist church stood on this very hill when I bought it, requiring me to hire a teenaged pothead to burn it to the ground in the dead of night.

Read More
Jenny AllenTSRFICTION
The Abductions

“I’m scared you’re going to get caught out there. Not paying attention, not stopping for lights. Think of your abduction,” our father said, holding our shoulders as if he’d always feared God. We pulled up our pants and tucked in our skin. “Don’t stop for bleating lights,” he said again. Those lights paint the skin colors that aren’t ours.

We remember this in the backseat. Away from home. We are with friends, in their car full of smoke. Bleat, bleat. We cannot breathe. We are frozen with thoughts of better places to be. The lights pass us by. Everyone but us erupts in human laughter.

Read More
Rob TaylorTSRFICTION, TSR Classics
The Lucky One

Before I turn over the ignition, I slide my arms forward until my hands touch the inside of the windshield. I flick the back of my fingers against the glass and hear the click of my nails. I don’t know why; it’s something my father used to do when he drove. Something about luck. Like the way he spit on a fishhook or bait before casting out.

Read More
Karen Crumley KeatsTSRFICTION