The scream of the alarms can be heard for two city blocks. So we flee our apartments, those boxes that stack atop one another like Legos. Eleven stories in total. We flee our apartments grumbling a…

She didn’t see herself as a saint; she identified as something we needed even more: a writer.

There’s a picture of me somewhere, wearing a space suit. My little brown bob, grown out from the last time I got ukus, dusting the metal ring around the neck hole. I couldn’t believe how heavy it w…

The day the sun forgets to rise, Mr White sits down for breakfast at precisely twelve minutes past seven. This is in the dining room. It is Tuesday. His Tuesday breakfast is a soft-boiled egg opene…

In Alice’s stories the mother always dies. Or is dead already. Or is absent in a way that suggests, to the perceptive reader, that she is likely dead. There are mother figures, maybe a step-mother …

Listen, it’s not as if I caused the accident, just that I was standing right there at the Maple Avenue intersection when a giant lady started screeching and clapping her metal hands, that’s how it …

I tossed the used diaper, I buckled the seatbelt, I put my daughter into her stroller, I checked four times to make sure I put my daughter into her stroller, I lowered her visor, I pressed the lock…