Fragments of Narcissus by S.M. Balding I. What I would have liked to tell Ovid the night I knew myself a mirror and fell into its love: Only a fool rebukes the lover.  Perhaps I am fair Narcissus born again (again), that boy who flowered in his own reflection. No fool was he, to fall…

A Private Rebellion Christopher Cervelloni Three years into the rebellion and two years into our marriage, Thomas was shot in the head. A quick death, they said. A pleasant way to die, given the circumstances. The coroner—just a rebel army medic too old to fight—said the same thing when I went to claim the body….

Larry’s Left Hand Beatriz Seelaender Ever since Larry died, I’ve been watching things from the corners. The world’s a touch out of view; or maybe it is my eyes that are wrong and out of frame. I suppose everyone here wants to throw me away, but keeps hoping someone else will do it. Because I’m…

Imaginary Solutions Brandon Barrett Two fifteen-year-old boys in the room, one living and one dead. Edward—alive—considers the moment. He drags Albert—dead—away from the desk so he might sit comfortably and reflect. Nothing but a travesty that such a singular instant should be swept out into the whole of it, overwhelmed by the span of time…

Coincidences Nora Kipnis A blizzard in New York, late night, early 2011. At West 4th Street the downtown F slows and sighs the moment he arrives. He kisses his fingers in thanks. To him, this is natural: the next step in a long-memorized dance, the next volley in a game of tennis. The muscles remember…