by David Antrobus
Photo credit: David Antrobus
Hallowed be her name.
When she first came here—the skin beneath her hazel eyes smeared as if an artist had been learning charcoal, the eyes themselves almost pitiless—we called her Trashy, soon shortened to Trash. We meant nothing bad by that. “Trash panda” was a nickname for raccoons, and that was all we meant. But Trash—Raylene—heard only bad. Today we’d call it slut-shaming, only we weren’t slut-shaming anyone. Yet she felt slut-shamed.… Read More MIGHT NEVER HAPPEN
by Amy Henry Photo credit: izzyplante
“What people call serendipity sometimes is just having your eyes open.”—Jose Manuel Barroso
Since college days, my life has been filled with cats. There’s Phoebe, a tortoiseshell cat who napped atop my turntable; StarBaby, a calico who cleaned out the bottom of my yogurt cartons and then lined up the empties in the bathroom; Maggie, a stray I “adopted” from the Boston pizzeria that fed her; Tia Maria, an opinionated, affectionate gray with a “hint of beige”—also mother of Brutus and Jasmine, both brown tigers. And Francesca, a tiny, gray long-haired kitten who was terrified of most everything, but loved Brutus and followed him everywhere.… Read More I ALWAYS WANTED AN ORANGE KITTEN
by David Antrobus Is this at all ghostable? Let’s see. We came here after fighting through a swarm of mouths. I met you in the parking lot of a Walmart. Saw you struggling and offered to help and of course you were suspicious and declined. “I just have to do two things and get home,”… Read More EMPTIED