by Jacqlyn Cope

My mother taught me to fold pain up like laundry: flatten the surface, crisp the corners, and store it away in a drawer or a cabinet.

By Dean Ford

They kept their crazy on the middle floor where it’s harder to escape to the ground or the roof. It was usually the addicts who tried to run. Not like us, playing 1000-piece puzzles till meatloaf came on plastic trays.

by Dan French

“Ten-hut.”

Eight brothers. Bob, Thomas, Tom, John, Greg, Dan, Steve, and David, ages thirteen down to seven, lined up stiff and tall by age in the living room. Dad’s puffy red face, alcohol smell, and seething anger filled the room.