Stories tagged flash-fiction

Combinatorics

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“I'm thinking about math class,” she said. “The solution to three factorial.” “Easy,” Leo said.

Violet Hour

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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.

Dinner with Don Quixote

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Die already. We need the bed.

Redux

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I peeled his tongue, word by contemptuous word, until he had nothing left but a scrappy shred of muscle flapping in his empty head...

On the train to Otsu Station

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You will imagine that you always knew where the Pure Land could be found, that you found it, that you dwell in the Pure Land. You will be wrong.

The Works

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The woman in green doesn’t want to encounter the meter maid who is actually a man and so waits to one side at the newspaper racks as if purchasing a paper while that person writes the parking ticket (this city needs that money) and drives away in his li

Butterflies are the souls of dead babies

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When he leaves, she collects all the caterpillars she can find at the bottom of the garden and sits cross-legged in the shade of the buddleia. She makes a hollow in her skirt and drops in the smooth green, the furry black, the red, spotted and the spiny ones and watches as…

Cross Country

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The train seemed unusually empty this morning. Not that I minded, the night before the train had picked up three travelers which brought the car’s capacity to about half. Two men and a woman. Luckily, I wasn’t burdened with any as a seating companion. Mak

The Suicide Lie

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I’m a suicide prevention counselor for teens. Most of the time I answer phones and tell kids not to kill themselves over their boyfriends and girlfriends and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, etc. I’m not even sure what the number is—1-800-DONT-DIE or something li

E-Harmony Connection #54421

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We were destined by chemistry and plastic figurines to give it a go.

Il Silenzio

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I have never dined with him.

and I am not with you, anymore

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Dancing at the pavilion leads to sex. A nectar builds up around the heart (damp curl of hair at the neck.) The heart does not know what it cannot have. It is dumb and does not know. But I, for one, hope that it never learns and becomes numb. There i

The Games We Play

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During the hangover, I crawl to my desktop computer and then Google “rapid STI testing” and “speedy divorce”

Courtroom (Philip Guston)

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They’ve thrown the painter in the trash upside down with his red pajamas and feet sticking up in the air, with his shoes on. The large red hand of judgement pointing at him, that gives us direction and law and shame, gives us a large red headache. Whi

you see?

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The river is there inside, the liquid living inside like light, moving rapidly over unknown rocks, approaching, and intimate. As if the source of all is inside me. Someone, anyone, says the word “available” from 3 tables away, as if it’s the only word o