A Cheater’s Justification

by Claudia Prevete

When I cheated on my college boyfriend, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I did, however, Google “Am I a sociopath?” a lot that week.

The guilt, shame, depression, and inability to eat or smile that came next reminded me that I’m not actually a sociopath. His next girlfriend and his next, next girlfriend’s Picasso-like versions of my visage and vibe were nice reminders that he deserved it.

When I cheated on my college boyfriend, I guess he didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Permanent Absence

by Natalie Kulick

The ghost felt sticky in her palm and on the tips of her fingers. Its back leg stretched into an unflattering shape, like it had swallowed a triangle that got stuck in the upper thigh. The ghost slinked away when the sound of a cat vomiting won the girl’s attention. She, the girl, Remi, fell back asleep with her hands nestled against her cheek. In the morning the ghost climbed into bed and laid against her. At rest, it formed into a dew, and absentmindedly, peacefully, she woke and wiped it away as if it were drool.

Mama’s Choppers

by Kathryn Jankowski

My mother wore dentures. I was fascinated by how she changed when taking them out to soak overnight. Her face would shrivel and suddenly I was looking at a newborn’s gums, wet and pink and naked. She’d laugh and smack her lips then place her teeth in a cup of water with an effervescent tablet. I think of her when my retainers go into a glass for cleansing and the blue bubbles foam at the top. When I look in the mirror and see her face gazing back at me. An old woman’s face sinking at the jowls.

He’s the Bull, and She’s the China Shop

by David Henson

He bellows that her feelings are porcelain, his brute terrorizing a tea set. She demands change. He snorts and stomps, shoulder shattering a Sèvres vase. Her “get out” a rippling muleta, steam rises from his hide, and his wrath wreaks havoc on Delfts, Laliques, Lladrós … Vowing she hasn’t seen his last, he crashes through plate glass. Jaw clenched, she sweeps and discards, ignoring pain from a piercing shard. Despite the damage, the shop has good bones. She embraces a fresh start, considers his parting words, and decides. The world needs more lady butchers.

Two-Timing

by Katherine Plumhoff

My best friend opened her wedding speech with, “Welcome back, everybody” and it tore the house down. Three of my college friends almost choked, spitting cones of champagne spraying, and I heard actual guffaws from my father and my second stepmother. Everyone laughed except my new husband, who clutched my thigh under the table, livid at the ignominious reminder that he hadn’t gotten me first.