“They were easy to ignore.” The narrator of Tate Gieselmann’s story “Prey” dismisses his two high friends in the same way that a discerning reader might auto-reject a story about white-male freestyle rappers on an acid trip in California. To do so, in this case, would be a mistake. Gieselmann does something in this story that is on a short list of my favorite things great literature can do: handle a memory with care.