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Fire Escape

Somewhere in the middle of my tasks I heard the bell above the door ding. Before I saw who it was I dashed back behind the counter, where I felt a rush of air and heard a buzzing noise, almost as loud as a lawnmower. A fly about the size of a large cat landed on counter near the register. “Hi,” it said. “My name is Mary.”

Fiction by Eric Rasmussen


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Fish-God

crocus in my Kansas yard. A rite / for my fertility, a crowded room / where I am the only one singing.

Poetry by Maddie Pospisil


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Someone Simple and Kind

Gurney Norman Prize for Fiction: 1st Place

I almost felt grateful for the experience of being somebody’s mistress, Sylvia rolling off of me and springing up from my mattress around 5:30p.m. the afternoons I got to see her, the working day over. It made me feel great kinship with Mrs. Wilson from Gatsby, and I thought about her a lot, and how the room must have felt utterly abandoned each time Tom left it.

Fiction by Amarlie Foster


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