Fiction

Tragic Strip

Sit at your table with a plate of grapes. Look at them closely. How deformed they are.

The Diary of Martín Santomé: A Novel

The manager called me into his office. I could never stand that man; he’s so marvelously common and cowardly. On a few occasions he’s tried to bare his soul to me, his abstract existence, and I’ve encountered a repulsive image.

3 stories

He’s abrupt with you because he’s busy. Because he’s preoccupied. Because he’s upset. Because he’s sad. He doesn’t want to make love to you because he’s tired. Because he’s depressed. You hurt his feelings. You cut your hair.

from Clèves

Her parents are having friends over. They’re drinking rosé. “Off you go then, to your village fair.” The guests whistle when she appears in her dress. Her mother kisses her and rubs her cheek to get the lipstick off. Her father gives her a ten-franc note.

from The Secret Life of Objects

The vase—blue, pottery—was a gift from my college boyfriend. We’d drifted apart and become just friends for a few years and sometimes we wrote and sometimes we called and we invited each other to our weddings in cities four hours apart and neither of us went to the other’s wedding and we sent each other presents.

Table of Contents

Fiction

ADVERTISEMENTS
close

JUNE 2012

All Issues