Short Fiction Break

Time’s measured in meals, in solitary yard breaks, in the lights flicking on and off. Hamish inhales the meat and gravy in the cage opposite mine. His choking pulls me away from staring at my usual dry biscuits. I pad closer to the bars, gauging whether to call for help while he hacks; my lips part. The food dislodges, and he licks the bowl clean. He whines and resumes pacing...

The visitor entered the dining hall of the Seventh Street Mission just before dinner. Dressed in black except for his collar, he carried a set of beads, a bible and a small box. Walking around, he spoke to each man looking for someone to save. He was just about to leave when he saw a figure in the corner. The man’s shoulders were slouched, his head hung without expression. W...

Something was missing but it was hard to say what. All I knew was that I needed to find the missing piece, and I knew where to go to find it.

Maybe more people are obsessed with death than I realized. For most of my life I believed I was alone in this perseveration, but entering the Mall of Mortuary MacGuffins, I realized I was a member of a tribe whose numbers were u...

1990

The girl sat alone at the table in the corner, the one next to the bathroom that was usually empty. She wore a grey wool hat pulled down over her ears. Her long, blonde hair fell in a tangled mess past her shoulders. She was maybe nineteen and rail-thin. Her hands shook when she lifted the cup.

“Should I ask her to leave?” Sarah as...

He shows up just to vex me. The grimy vagrant flings a bag over his shoulder and slams a fist against my door.

“Open up, you glorified pity palace!”

“You’re no longer welcome.”

I punch a high frequency into his implant. He winces, clapping a hand to his head.

“Yeah?” He squints into my lens. “What about them?” The bag drops to the concrete...