Southern California is the same hue as your eyes. Brown rutted brush where the goats will chew out the fire breaks so maybe we won’t burn up like your rage on a Saturday night after maple colored scotch. I remember white blankets of soft ice covered the town where I went to school. Everything was touch and go, where winds would pick up like a whip and snap you forward on the walk from your dormitory, coming up again on the return like a violent slap to the face of pitch cold, kind of like last night with your words, never actually, but reaching into my grey matter and thumbing at the tabs of files until pulling out one labeled Insecurities. You took that folder and studied it like admissions counselors studied my manuscripts. Scrutinized and memorized. …
“Acquaintance,” Flash Fiction by Ramisa Alam
“Would you like to see the menu?” the waiter couldn’t help himself from approaching Lisa. “No thank you. I’m waiting for someone.” She has been waiting for quite a while. She doesn’t mind waiting in such a nice place. Smooth jazz playing and she has her phone to keep her company. Lisa prefers this eatery to other ones nearby. This is the only place that has enough space to fit her laptop, papers and coffee mug on a table for one. Some days she plugs in the headphones, gets into the new assignment and hours goes by without her noticing. When it comes to meeting someone for the first time, this place is tops at cordiality. She looks down at her phone to check the time. It’s 4:54 What’s taking Nina so long? Nina has a habit of being late, Lisa knows that. Nina must have gotten into those hairstyle tutorial videos and lost the track of time. Classic Nina! Despite never meeting her…
“Temporary Graciousness,” a Short Story & the Eclectic Poetry of KJ Hannah Greenberg
Editor’s Note: We welcome Channie Greenberg back to the Cafe today with new poetry and fiction. Channie never fails to surprise us with the interesting directions her art takes – nor to delight us. My Etsy Site My Etsy site’s full of objects made from century eggs, sannakji, and puffin hearts, But not fugu, or hákarl, especially not shark meat served alongside surströmming. See, I couldn’t, hereafter, entirely disconnect all of my offerings of fins and tails, Give up completely trucking with evil, especially lads revealed to be key criminals. No lack of midwifery of unhealthy scions insures my partners keep their beds clean; Outlandish creatures show up in my life, regularly, despite my doughty efforts. What’s more, since I’m temporarily ineligible for base jumping, given my gestation, I dusted off my teacup collection. I like porcelain, locally sourced,…
“Out of Time,” Powerful Flash Fiction by Lucy Zhang
A ticking time bomb. Every tick a precious second lost–not preserved in Snapchat or Instagram–the memory of it cached in a few brain cells before a new memory purged space for itself. Ellen, twenty-nine years old and ticking, kept a bright pink box, the First Response Rapid Results pregnancy test, in a cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. She already wasted one test on a false-alarm missed period. After peeing on the tip, feeling the warmth of a droplet of urine on her finger, she had stood watching the test for ten minutes while her husband, Wes, stood outside the locked door to the bathroom. No pink. Safe. Or not safe, she supposed. She and Wes had been trying for children for a few months now. You’re in the prime of fertility in your twenties, Ellen’s mother had…
Karen Toralba’s Flash Fiction, “Pragmatic Spirituality”
“I’m sensing you’re burdened,” she closed her eyes tightly. “Can I pray for you?” Well, this seemed appropriate, Carrie mused, in a church of all places. “Sure.” The sensor, young and fresh, placed her hand firmly on Carrie’s shoulder and held it in a grip deep with passion as she closed in to a personal space intended for more intimate persons. Her eyes still bound without earthly vision, the woman began: “I’m feeling you’re burdened. Yes, a heavy burden. I’m sensing someone’s hurt you. Someone stabbed you in the back.” Carrie’s mind shot to one or two people, then more. Yes, she had been hurt, within the past year even. But, burdened? Perhaps if she had thought about it more, one might label it as a burden. Stabbed in…
Startling Flash Fiction by Arya-Francesca Jenkins
WHATEVER YOU DESIRE When they are together, her nose turns up automatically at everything he says, her head turning to observe passersby or leaves quavering on a tree, incidentals, he, the point from which she departs to engage in everything. This is how it almost always is. He has no idea, even while cultivating his fevered impulse to draw her in, make her look into his eyes, respond to the hand holding hers as he inquires what she would like to eat and drink—life’s menu, always at her disposal, proffered by him. His drone of words tickles their fecundity. Everything so green. He has never seen her more beautiful, wearing the ring he gave her, a diamond perhaps too large. But what is love, if not extravagant? She demurs at his suggestion for the wine, then lets him choose her appetizer and entrée. This makes him smile. He knows her, and she, in turn, appreciates being able to settle into the cushion of the life he is creating for her with such dexterity…