Issue 17 Creative Nonfiction

Frozen Air

Frozen Air 1200 1600 Linda Briskin

Be vigilant. Protect yourself. Find a safe place. Expect the worst.

My white skates, tied together and flung over my shoulder, swing with each stride. The blades brush rhythmically against my red down coat.

Virtual Grief in a Pandemic

Virtual Grief in a Pandemic 1920 1282 Zachary Hourihane

For the past month, I had been calling my grandmother every day, from Singapore, to read her a poem. It started as an isolation project. She was cocooned at home in Dublin and I thought she could use the company. Things were bad with Papa, he needed care round the clock.

Private Fireworks

Private Fireworks 1920 1280 Alexandra Persad

Last week, I asked my roommate what her favorite compliment she has ever received was. She sat back in our living room chair and thought for a moment. She didn’t question why I was asking, but she considered the question carefully, running through her mental compliment rolodex.

“I like it when people tell me that I’m smart,” she said finally.

Sex With an Alligator

Sex With an Alligator 1089 1600 Jillian Luft

Meet me after, you’d pleaded before leaving the office. And now I’m sliding on the stool next to you, dissolving like the flakes of ice in your second whiskey, maybe third. It’s so easy to love you, to give into the late afternoon lull and forget. You rub my thigh, tell me you’re glad I came. You knew I would, I say, carving another line near my pulse.

The Mammogram Industrial Complex

The Mammogram Industrial Complex 1920 1280 Emily Sinclair

The patient sits on the exam table. The doctor says, Seatbelt? Sunscreen? Calcium? Good, good, good. Have you had a mammogram within the last year?

Well, I changed health insurance and we moved and so—

Have a mammogram. 

Bodily Bias

Bodily Bias 1920 1280 Erin Kirsh

The first time a doctor doesn’t believe me about pain, I am seven years old. My friend and I are practicing gymnastics at my house. We’re both pretty good, so we attempt something we think would be the pinnacle of cool. She’s older than me by a year and twice as big already, so I want to impress her, prove I’m not a second grade baby, that I can hang with the worldly third graders.

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