More things fall from the sky now.

By Chi Siegel
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Fiction

He had once asked his mother to describe his father’s face, a question whose weight he did not recognise until he had been older.

Fiction

I was angry then. No. I wanted to be just like her.

Fiction

I went on a jog this morning in a never-ending Chinatown.

Fiction

After everyone has passed it around, Tharani wraps it in a tissue and tucks it into her polar-fleece pocket.

Fiction

Trying is a fitting operative verb here.

Fiction

A handful of us scream in recognition like sea flares on a dance floor.

Fiction

Did she even graduate? Kevin will ask me later, when it’s just us, slumped on our flight back home.

Fiction

The way she speaks will make you certain that she is the only one still alive.

Fiction

We’d video-game or anime-binge or dream aloud about a future as bright as our childhoods.

Fiction

I think about your hands when I look at mine

Fiction

但巡迴遊樂園並不害怕,只要再次拆卸自毀,它們換個地方就可以重新活過來。
| As long as the traveling carnival committed self-destruction, it could come alive once more in a different place.

Fiction

And yet you’re still here.

Fiction

Chow reminded Cheng that a lot of writers drink but drinking does not turn him into a writer.

Fiction

You dreamed of what could be, unaware of what was.

Fiction

“I’m a truck driver. Long-distance. I just came back from California yesterday.”

Fiction

You convinced me of the queer soul of the world.

Fiction

A flash folio edited by Yi Wei

Fiction

“A Beautiful Relationship” and “The Price of Freedom”

Fiction

I think about your hands when I look at mine

Fiction

He had once asked his mother to describe his father’s face, a question whose weight he did not recognise until he had been older.

Fiction

但巡迴遊樂園並不害怕,只要再次拆卸自毀,它們換個地方就可以重新活過來。
| As long as the traveling carnival committed self-destruction, it could come alive once more in a different place.

Fiction

I was angry then. No. I wanted to be just like her.

Fiction

And yet you’re still here.

Fiction

I went on a jog this morning in a never-ending Chinatown.

Fiction

Chow reminded Cheng that a lot of writers drink but drinking does not turn him into a writer.

Fiction

After everyone has passed it around, Tharani wraps it in a tissue and tucks it into her polar-fleece pocket.

Fiction

You dreamed of what could be, unaware of what was.

Fiction

Trying is a fitting operative verb here.

Fiction

“I’m a truck driver. Long-distance. I just came back from California yesterday.”

Fiction

A handful of us scream in recognition like sea flares on a dance floor.

Fiction

You convinced me of the queer soul of the world.

Fiction

Did she even graduate? Kevin will ask me later, when it’s just us, slumped on our flight back home.

Fiction

The way she speaks will make you certain that she is the only one still alive.

Fiction

A flash folio edited by Yi Wei

Fiction

We’d video-game or anime-binge or dream aloud about a future as bright as our childhoods.

Fiction

“A Beautiful Relationship” and “The Price of Freedom”