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Fiction
Sometime in late ’87, early ’88 by Patrick Strickland
One of the skinheads in the front column has a switchblade. He’s shifting it back and forth between his hands. I swig what’s left of my Natural Light.
Fiction
Kincaid by R. B. Miner
Kincaid died in an IED explosion in the fourteenth month of our fifteen-month deployment.
Fiction
Fresh Bites by Prachi Kamble
Like a burglar in an action movie, it had dropped from the ceiling with paranormal accuracy.