The strange woman at my door holds a knife and a fork. Her cutlery is sharp. She smells of raw oysters. A bag hangs over her shoulders . . .
It was the jet lag that had set Owen off . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- The Duppy
- The Angels’ Share
- Haiti Noir
- An Unkindness of Ghosts
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Getting It Right
- The White House
- The Sexy Part of the Bible
- The Game Don’t Change
- Pressure Makes Diamonds: Becoming the Woman I Pretended to Be
- Confessions of a Ex-Doofus-ItchyFooted Mutha
- Every Boy Should Have a Man