Fiction

The seedless watermelon changes sizes between the giant bin with the yellow sign and my checkout lane…

“Found it!”
Eugenios held a puzzle piece

My dearest Pixie, I never actually caught your name, or maybe I did but

The drooling blob named Artemis was sitting in a fresh pile of her own excrement

Your little robot asks you, “What is love?” out of the blue one day

We sat on the porch together despite the cold, encased in warm woolen sweaters

They cut me with pieces of pottery. Gashing me open, letting the blood

It was just another Tuesday. Or maybe it’s Saturday? I wondered, rubbing my stubbled cheek

After misting our houseplants, wilting in an unseasonable September heat, I clomp