Marlon got his first timecake for his 40th birthday. He ate a quarter of it, taking him back to 30 again, a good time for him. He wanted the opportunity to rethink a few decisions made in his mid-thirties… particularly those that led to his new family and the timecake.
This story came to Robert Carlberg in a dream. As these things do, it made more sense in the dream.
This morning I find a bunch of Tico kids fishing, probably for trucha [trout], next to the bench I’m sipping my Cafe Britt.
One of them asks me why I’m not fishing.
I tell him, “I’m thinking.”
He says, “Senor, you’d be better off fishing.”
The kid might be right.
Johannes Springenseiss is a world citizen and raconteur. He mostly writes speculative fiction and creative essays that he has published in literary magazines worldwide.
At the lost-and-found, I asked for my courage. The clerk checked, shrugged: “Claimed by doubt six years ago.” I got back in line, this time for memory. They handed me a photo of a sky I didn’t recognize. I kept it anyway. It looked like something I might’ve believed in.
Tomiko Nanashi enjoys tea, handwritten letters, and never saying too much.
the loneliest satellite
fifteen billion miles from home
one eight-track to keep me entertained
and just a simple calculator brain
but I voyage on
sending signals and messages back
not knowing how to return
or where this trip is taking me
but I know—
I carry something of great importance
Mitchell Biggs is a poet based out of the Skagit Valley in Washington State. Growing up near the Salish Sea, he found his creative muses in the natural world, in the DIY music scene and in endless stacks of thrifted paperbacks. His work has been featured in Writer’s Hour Magazine and Dissident Voice.
The kindergartener stares, forgetting to suck on her glazed thumb. “You’re Sarah?”
I nod. Why the awe when I’ve just met this sprout and her mother at the park?
“Sarah’s the name of her imaginary friend,” Mom apologizes.
The child grabs my hand. “Let’s play.”
I’ve never felt more real.
Sarah E. Morin has published two books, Waking Beauty and Rapunzel the Hairbrained. Sarah E. is a past Premier Poet of Poetry Society of Indiana, Secretary of Community Education Arts, and editor of The Polk Street Review. Visit her at sarahemorin.net.
The story of the week for May 27 to 31 is…
Questions for the Woman Crying in the Office Bathroom by Nina Feinberg
Spring is fading into June, but the tree through my window, after a hearty hibernation, finally stretches its limbs to allow buds to burst from its veins. Its brothers lining the street already loosed their white petals, lining the sidewalk like pollinated snow. My tree waits, awakening alone and spectacular.
Dawn Parker earned her Bachelor’s in English Creative Writing from California State University Fresno. She is the recipient of the 2025 Larry Levis Poetry Prize and the 2025 Fresno Fiction Undergraduate Prize. She has published poems and stories in hais: a literary journal, Elephant Eyes, and Behemoth Magazine, with more to come. Within her writing, primarily in fiction, she focuses on experimental forms and themes of family. Dawn served as the 2024-2025 Co-Executive Editor for the San Joaquin Review journal.
In the kitchen, he asked, “Has it been a good life?”
Such a profound question. It’s forty years together. Betrayals, indifference, hot burning anger, flashes of joy, perfunctory kisses.
“Not really,” I say. It’s a revelation.
“Get your hearing checked,” he shouts. “I asked, have you seen the good knife?”
Brenda is a retired university administrator. Someday she will finish writing the Great American Novel, and it will be Great, and her family will say, “Finally! Thank goodness.”
Do you need a tissue?
Is everything okay?
Are you a person full of fear about the way we treat each other, just like me?
Do you ever wonder how we found ourselves in offices, checking in and touching base under artificial light?
Can you go home for the day?
Nina Feinberg is a writer, photographer and distance runner. She lives in Brooklyn, NY and works in product design at The New York Times.
At exactly midnight, the clock struck, and Ramin Taham stood before the door, though he had no memory of arriving. Behind it, another room. A man in a suit handed him a letter, sealed with no name. “Your fate,” the man whispered, vanishing. Ramin opened it. The paper was blank.
Mohammad Abedi is a novelist, filmmaker, and child rights activist.
His novels have been translated into more than 15 languages, and his films and screenplays have been nominated for, or awarded prizes at, over 130 international flim festivals.
He is the founder of Hermes magazine and of Teachers Against Poverty (affiliated with Academics Stand Against Poverty). Abedi has completed some 30 academic courses at universities such as Harvard, Yale, Pennsylvania, Edinburgh, and the University California. He holds two honorary doctorates, in Philosophy and Social Justice, and teaches cinema, philosophy, and Persian literature. See more at mohammadabedi0.wordpress.com.