Storyglossia Issue 11, January 2006
The Other Sister by Amy Greene
I lift another book from the stack, a faded orange tome puffing up dust and trailing strings, and a picture falls out. For a long moment after it flutters to the carpet at my feet, I'm afraid to pick it up. It's a glossy Polaroid, gleaming in the lamplight. I know it instantly. I have seen it before, when I was much smaller. It was never kept in the family album but Patty once came to me, holding this Polaroid gingerly by one corner. My parents were outside doing yard-work and Patty whispered, "I think this is our sister." . . .
Brothers by Toshiya A. Kamei
He had never felt quite so helpless before, not even in the hospital when he tried to touch his legs and discovered only damp bandages beneath the sheets. Now what he feels is savage hatred. Images of the people who "helped" him march past his mind. What did they think he was going to do? Sprout legs, for crying out loud? At that moment he thought of Adolfo—Adolfo living in style somewhere—and he felt even more ludicrous . . .
Little Animals? by Staci Leigh O'Brien
In May's world, they meant adjusting rearview mirrors away from teenage mothers who sometimes stood alone, sometimes were held up by boys with caps bent over their eyes, boys who had sworn out statements they would do nothing to help. May made it a practice not to watch as she pulled away, but Jesus' mother—just a girl—was always with her, standing in silence on a cold cement stoop that had no railing to hold . . .
A Matter of Convenience by D. E. Fredd
I think Kay knows what's going on. A few times she's alluded to Vera and me having at it (incorrectly of course). When I first bought the place, I envisioned it being a family affair, the American dream I guess, she and I and our kids building up something we could pass on to the next generation. After six months she got tired of it, went to community college and got a dietician job at the Fairlawn nursing home. I suspect she's having her bit on the side as well . . .
Things Happen This Way by Linda Ellis
Pauline saw the absurdity of the situation and wanted to laugh. A thirty-nine-year old man with the mental capacity of a seven-year-old boy, in a husky masculine voice, informs her that he's shitted in his pants. Her husband. Reggie and Pauline Dodson. Married eleven years. But she didn't laugh because it would upset him. Reggie was very sensitive about people making fun of him . . .
Ectoplasm by Peter Anderson
Suddenly, inexplicably but right on cue, Bert burst into a paroxysm of giggling. His face reddened, his flabby cheeks bulged, and he emitted high-pitched squeals as if "ectoplasm" was the funniest word he had ever heard . . .