Issue 19 Nonfiction
by Michelle Auerbach
"looks like we missed tax time this year," my accountant says over the phone.
"What? It’s only March first." I moan; now I'm paying attention.
"The weather, I’m talking about the weather missing tax season, not the calendar; it feels like we skipped to summer.
I’m Filling Your Prescription
by B. J. Jones
we fill prescriptions. Every day, filling prescriptions. On a slow day, we may fill three hundred. On a busy day, six hundred. On the weekends, two hundred. We stand while we fill. We stand all day long. We stand in front of pods. Pods are like desks, but without chairs. The medicine is located on a shelf and brought back to the pod. The medicine’s bar code is scanned to make sure it is the correct medication and dosage.
The Language of Cancer
by Graham Oliver
you’re sitting in a doctor’s examination room. You’ve been tired lately, have a cough you can’t shake. The other night you woke up, sheets soaked in sweat. It terrified you, so now you’re here. It’s cold, and an older man just saw you at your most vulnerable—shivering in a hospital gown. A piece of tissue paper just big enough to make things awkward.
The Dying Swan Crowned Anna
by Victoria Scher
a series of bourreés, which are the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against glass, glide Anna across the stage. She, as well as any ballerina who dares, beams white against the black backdrop. One spotlight follows her bourreé. A crown of white feathers, not flowers or diamonds, wraps around her bun. Her tutu, embroidered with crystal droplets and gossamer thread, frames her waist and legs.