“To Lie and Toke in LA” by Michael Estrin

The first time I bought weed in Los Angeles, I listened to—and talked about—vintage synthesizers for hours. I was high . . .

“Taking the Cyclone” by Howard Gimple

Kelleher ran towards Nathan’s, Coney Island’s legendary wiener wonderland. The Ukrainian’s final fetid breath was still stinging his nostrils . . .

“Tar” by Scott Kaiser

10:00 a.m.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Ummm, this will work . . . I’m sure I can quit this time,” muttered Steve under his quickening breath while rapidly striking his index finger against the table before him.

“Here come the temple spasms, Steve . . .”

“Bowling” by John Jeremiah

In 1965 we were just short of driving age. Our mode of locomotion was hitchhiking . . .

“Dipshit” by Scott Scheible

“Hardest thing you’ll ever do in your life. Mental equivalent of hog-tying the meanest steer this side of Odessa . . .”

“The Resurrection Love Song” by Seamus Scanlon

Dusk was falling on a high summer day in Galway City, a place that claimed me but never loved me . . .

“Dropping Like Flies” by Brian Lance

Flies pepper the window of my Fort Benning barracks room. I stun them with pine-scented Glade. With each spray they drop—well, like flies . . .

“Tantrum” by Krystal A. Sital

She flies to her room with that awkward run that’s typical of children under three. It’s the the quick thump-thump-thump of her feet on the hardwood floors that makes me smile. Colette was a late walker, so that kind of purposeful movement, even if done in anger, amazes me . . .