I had vowed to be different, but I wasn’t able to escape servitude, even eight thousand miles away in New York.

By Rachana Pathak
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Fiction

I had vowed to be different, but I wasn’t able to escape servitude, even eight thousand miles away in New York.

Fiction

You’re brought up by blue, Father said.

Fiction

I wonder how the body knows it’s ready to feed another life. Does it even get a choice to be ready?

Fiction

We heard a glass break, then saw our mother, saw what looked like tears.

Fiction

Astrological insights from twelve of our most recent flash stories

Fiction

I close my eyes once again and let my hands remember the beat.

Fiction

Looking is not enough. You must run this beauty between finger and thumb.

Fiction

Wei forgot that he’d given up these aspirations, but he knew they were still possible for her.

Fiction

She remembers the rituals she had imbued with her own significance: how her ex used to bring her a single flower after every exam, and how she’d watch it wilt on her desk as she studied for the next.

Fiction

What kind of exhibit on revolutionaries would it be without a living Palestinian? The rub of course is there are so few of you.

Fiction

What if the world was stuck, frozen, and we could go anywhere we wanted, together?

Fiction

A few steps are all that separate us.

Fiction

We—our family—had so little to give each other; maybe we needed to look elsewhere.

Fiction

It’s always only Rio standing there.

Fiction

For it is what Grandma made best, and it is what we knew and ate.

Fiction

You know what I am trying to do for you, Night, she says. I am trying to make life easier.

Fiction

As I inhaled the sharpness I thought about how much I loved her, and I thought about all the things I would do to prove it.

Fiction

“It’s started. It’s changing me. It’s happening. Now.”

Fiction

I should have studied their faces as they said goodbye, the way they smelled, the lines on their hands.

Fiction

I turned around to check whether the llama was still there. There he was, as fluffy and clueless as before, lashes waving as he sat on a tattered red mat thrown on the aisle.

Fiction

I had vowed to be different, but I wasn’t able to escape servitude, even eight thousand miles away in New York.

Fiction

What if the world was stuck, frozen, and we could go anywhere we wanted, together?

Fiction

You’re brought up by blue, Father said.

Fiction

A few steps are all that separate us.

Fiction

I wonder how the body knows it’s ready to feed another life. Does it even get a choice to be ready?

Fiction

We—our family—had so little to give each other; maybe we needed to look elsewhere.

Fiction

We heard a glass break, then saw our mother, saw what looked like tears.

Fiction

It’s always only Rio standing there.

Fiction

Astrological insights from twelve of our most recent flash stories

Fiction

For it is what Grandma made best, and it is what we knew and ate.

Fiction

I close my eyes once again and let my hands remember the beat.

Fiction

You know what I am trying to do for you, Night, she says. I am trying to make life easier.

Fiction

Looking is not enough. You must run this beauty between finger and thumb.

Fiction

As I inhaled the sharpness I thought about how much I loved her, and I thought about all the things I would do to prove it.

Fiction

Wei forgot that he’d given up these aspirations, but he knew they were still possible for her.

Fiction

“It’s started. It’s changing me. It’s happening. Now.”

Fiction

She remembers the rituals she had imbued with her own significance: how her ex used to bring her a single flower after every exam, and how she’d watch it wilt on her desk as she studied for the next.

Fiction

I should have studied their faces as they said goodbye, the way they smelled, the lines on their hands.

Fiction

What kind of exhibit on revolutionaries would it be without a living Palestinian? The rub of course is there are so few of you.

Fiction

I turned around to check whether the llama was still there. There he was, as fluffy and clueless as before, lashes waving as he sat on a tattered red mat thrown on the aisle.