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Self-Portrait

By Lauren Aliza Green Fiction

I was only twenty, driven by a dreamy conviction that life would unfold exactly the way I wanted. Others told me I floated through the world. This they said with a mixture of pity and scorn. I didn’t know what they meant; I’m still not sure I do.

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This Is Not My Son’s Head

By Murzban F. Shroff Fiction

How do you remember a part of your life when it freezes up on you, when it makes a living corpse of you and you walk through your days dragging your feet, scarcely noticing anything around you.

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Earthly Delights

By Sarah Stone Fiction

Apparently, thank God, they have a tour guide, swaying upright, a column of shining, jeweled scales. The guide investigates them with faceted, ravenous eyes.

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From Until the Victim Becomes Our Own

By Dimitris Lyacos Fiction

They had set up tents. Not all; some had a few blankets thrown down and were lying on them. Often there was a man with a woman and child on each blanket. It seemed a little odd to me, because some had dug a hole and built a shallow shelter with the blanket on top. It might get very windy and cold at night.

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