A small excerpt from Grant Garland’s short story “Flea Market” reads,
“I drove home with the radio on the passenger seat. I thought about how I never shook the one-armed man’s hand. Then I tried to remember which arm he had been missing. I couldn’t recall. Men shake hands with the right hand. I wasn’t feeling good about the radio anymore. He had given me his word, but we didn’t shake on it. That mattered to some people. I wasn’t sure if it mattered to me or not.”
In “Flea Market,” Garland explores themes of friendship, emptiness and the tricky cost-benefit of deciding whether to fix something mysteriously broken with a poignancy subtly amplified by his dexterous minimalist style. Find the full piece in our forthcoming first issue.
The opening stanza of Joel Pompea’s “Junebug Gets the Big One” reads:
I’ve caused so many cubes of ice
To plummet to the floor in the quiet night
And I wonder whether my neighbors have heard
My curses inside their boxes with the lamps turned low
And the shades drawn tight.
The full piece will be featured in our first issue and we are excited to put out this brief yet lush meditation on the lack of intimacy despite proximity and the intangible charm of urban life, all wrapped in a sluggish summer heat.