Alphabetical stories

Mirrors/srorriM

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It's weird to be here. I wonder if you are here too. You'd probably say oh that was years ago. And you would be right. But I like the things we believed in then. Some of them I still do. You're old I guess. You were so pretty and golden in your…

Misanthropy in an Age of Propaganda

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We have become// the sum of our appetites,/ the growth curve of our dominion.

MISCELLANEOUS SHORT SHORTS

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Maybe you, citizen, should be a jerk. Jerks get where they are going. You, citizen, what about you? Handy, dandy, where’s the jerk? Conformists. Sheep. All of you, all of us, boiling out our radiators. Spending our day, our days, our lives in coope

Mischief

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If you don't want to die, go fetch me a pie

Misis luluai and the raskols

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The women in the clinic called her misis luluai – it means white woman chief, it was a compliment. She always wore crazy outfits. High heels and pantyhose. And tight, tight skirts. My wife never trusted her because of that

Misplaced Emotions

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I spent most of those days in my car. Stashed in the trunk was a cache of precious stones, neatly sorted and separated, bound in smooth black velvet inside a smooth black briefcase.

Miss

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On Saturday mornings, by noon, the delivery car comes from Boston and unloads fresh bread and sandwiches, pork ribs and ground pork stuffed inside of breads and buns and banana leaves, bean shakes, and sticky rice desserts.

Miss Ang Has a Very Comfortable Life

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"Is all life suffering?" Miss Ang asked as she parked in front of the brothel. The concrete monstrosity stood humble and lost in appearance, but the locals knew what transpired there, as did the truckers and businessmen that frequented the Phetkasem Highw

Miss Edna's Lace

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When Elvis died, I felt so empty that I headed straight for Jimmy Choo's, but quietly, with the half-veil of my pillbox hat draped low over my face. I didn't want to draw attention to my vintage Dior mourning outfit, since I normally wear pants, even here. The voices…

Miss Havisham's Fire

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. . . catching her breath somewhere between ecstasy and surprise. . .

Miss Miriam

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Miriam smiled as I entered through the old, creaky metal front door of her home. She sat still, face marked of deep wrinkles, tense with the pain only another cancer patient would understand. In that soft, sweet, melodic voice, she greeted me. '"Hello Ms. Monica, I've been…

Miss Winter Solstice

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The palm trees bent upon her passing stride From fishnet stockings running up her hide;

Miss Zoldac's Fifth Grade Class Balloon Launch

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INSTRUCTIONS: To all students, please address your index card: "To the Finder of this Balloon." Beneath that, write something that will encourage the finder to email you back. Then tape the index card to your balloon's string.Happy Ballooning! To the Finder…

Missed

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How I felt in Ireland.

Missed Connection

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You said it looked like I could use some dietary counseling and rolled your eyes. I was too tired to be a smart-ass and just smirked. If you'd like to offer advice in person, reply here.

Missed Connections

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We were on the L train.You were reading Fifty Shades of Gray;I was reading One Hundred Years of Solitude. You never looked up until just as I moved off, always looking back your way and hopingyou would lift your head. And then you did, at the last moment,but…

Missed connections

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I lost my job but the government found me a new one. Now the government pays me to pretend I’m a travelling businessman. I fly around the country to imaginary meetings. It’s part of a project to make it look like the economy is doing well.

Missing

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... he led what might be called a quiet life

Missing Bananas

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He's no fruit lover.

missing glory

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i found her world cluttered and noisy, a place where logic frowns

Missing Her

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When the teacher was out of the room Myron pretended to play with himself, saying, “down boy” and smiling to the nervous gasping and fake coughs from the other classmates and, since he's my close friend, I think he does silly stuff like this to contend with…

missing item #7

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in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.

Missing Letter

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It's so far to get to where we aren't inthe way of someone's destructive progress.I'm only walking in my own gardensnow, but the big blue house is like an emptiedout envelope. I guess that makes this themissing letter. I don't know your heart's newaddress, but I once…

Missing the Bus

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Something about her eyes...

Mission of Mercy Brings Vowels to Kyrgyzstan

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“Me–I am too old for help now,” says Askr Bakyv. “But perhaps it is not too late for them,” he says, pointing to his son and two daughters. “They are the future.”

Mississippi

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“I won't live here,” Beth said, waving her hand to indicate the small Southern town in which they were having dinner—the most delicious fried chicken either of them had ever tasted—in a restaurant located in an antebellum mansion. She looked…

Mississippi Blues

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“Jus’ because a story told right don’t make it true,” he said. “Sometimes the story is there ain’t no story. Sometimes you look way down inside, and ain’t nuthin’ there. Can’t write no book ‘bout nuthin’. Won’t sell none. But them

Mississippi Burning

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“There are no inhibitions in here,” the postman shouted, gesturing at the dance floor with his Marlboro Light, the glowing tip aimed at a woman in a taut skirt. Leaning far forward, her hands nearly touching the plywood floor, she planted her feet and beg

Mississippi Jesus

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"How the fucks he drivin' like that?"

Missy

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If I had a daughter, this it how it would be. It would be all, Stand up straight, missy, shoulders back, no slouching, and she'd be sulky, sullen, pouting, wilful, and I'd see in her eyes, which would be my eyes, that she was starting to hate me, and I'd