One Wall Street


Here, There Be Dragons

By Jillian Merrifield

Dana and I are on this party’s shitlist, I can tell, and I’m pretty sure that it’s mostly about me. The host is the building manager of the high rise that Dana works in downtown, and he was so pissed to see that she’d brought an unsolicited male plus-one…
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"What Isn't The Home of God(dog)?" by Alexandria Heather, 44x30, mixed media



By Florence Sunnen

I wake up to the phone ringing, and the sun wedges itself between my lids. I peel my cheek off the notebook page I fell asleep on. The ringing comes from underneath a pile of clothes. The light is deep; it is the afternoon. I dig around for the phone and answer…
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"After the Firebird" by Ekaterina Vasilyeva, photograph


The Lady of the House

By Constance Renfrow

The noises upstairs woke Marla again. Her phone would read, she knew, 2:08 a.m.—the same as it had every night for a week. She pressed her face deeper into the bed sheet—the pocket of air beneath the covers warm and unmoving, safe…
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"Blue Hair" by Catherine Hall, 12x9, encaustic on canvas


The First Task of Letting Go

By Christine Linn

I. Corporeality of action. The first task of letting go: righting bodies. If I found you, I would lift your one hundred and forty-two pounds of gangle easily. I would lift those one hundred and forty-two pounds of boy-smell t-shirts…
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"Drowning Jester" by Kim J. Gifford, digital collage



By Erin Seaward-Hiatt

The first mortuary gig was a rush thing I’d agreed to after my dream job of designing indie album sleeves stopped panning out. “Well, you get to honor families’ last wishes for their loved ones,” people say. “How honorable is that?” Really, designing headstones is just a lot of convincing people not to opt for the Papyrus heading…
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The Italian Dance

By Emily Alice Katz

Outside the sanatorium library, Evie spies a notice for a theatrical gathering. The announcement is written neatly on thick vanilla card stock. Sunday afternoons from two o’clock to half past three, it says. The words slope across the page from left to right. English letters, not Yiddish. Evie calculates: only four days to wait…
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"Changeling" by Eduardo Ford, 24x30, oil on hardboard


Gaw Gaw

By Loan Le

On Halloween, the veil between the living and the dead lifts. That’s what Dad tells me every year, as if I need to be reminded, as if I can ever forget. Today is special….
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"The Thrill of Her Slipperiest Flesh" by Bill Wolak, Collage



By Noelle Q. de Jesus

Through this long summer, I’ve been desperately and quite pathetically in love with Eloisa Tuason, our neighbor from down the street. From the start, it’s been more than infatuation. Any man, married or not, can pass a woman on the street and think she’s gorgeous, and by the time he gets to wherever he’s going, he’s forgotten her….
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"At Ray & Judy's Bookstore, Study 2" by Onelio Marrero, 10" x 8​"​ Oil On Canvas Board


The Waiting Moon

By Thomas Benz

Jarrett wakes with the disorienting sense that he has missed something, that there has been some lapse and he must try to figure out what’s gone wrong. Passengers are wearily lining up in the aisle, jostled by the accustomed roughness of the old rails. The street and buildings out the window are upscale, mildly forbidding and unfamiliar…
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Winter Rose

By Vi Khi Nao

When it rains, which it hasn’t. At least not lately. But when it rains, which can be in the Spring or Fall, Nicole’s nipples become alert and her vulva swells up with clouds of feelings and illusions….
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