The End of Any Month Is Reason Enough to Grieve by Amorak Huey

January is 31 tiny Januarys in a trench coat trying to buy tickets to the rest of the year.

February 13, 2024

Reading Time: 1 Minutes

January is 31 tiny Januarys in a trench coat trying to buy tickets to the rest of the year. Sure, we all want to be part of something bigger until we are. The only response to feeling so insignificant is anger. Have you ever looked up into the deep dark mouth of the sky on a moonless night like this? It’s so cold out here my eyes are freezing open. It’s so cold the snow is on fire. I hate it. The dog whines to go back inside. I hold out my gloved hand and wait for you to take it. The body never gets used to absence.

A Parisian Affair by Kevin Wranovix
Inspiration is a foggy fellow, emerging from nothing, dissipating into nothing, answering to nothing.
Our Theseus by Nathan Jefferson
Last week he was a dishwasher who his coworkers called Ricky. Today he’s a day laborer named Eddie, clearing a pair of fallen trees off a new build’s lawn and fixing up a large garden. Rotting plank ripped out, new plank inserted.
Robbing the Pillars by Marie Goyette
Ruth stood on the narrow iron bridge, gripping her father’s obsidian necklace, and wondered how many years it would take before the river wore them both down to nothing.
The Call by Eben E. B. Bein
I hungered into that quiet until— there—unbelievable!— a wolf spider scuttled onto a leaf.
Saturation by Claire Oleson
I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.