Word Wrangler & Wabbit Hunter
In Katya's House there are eight women who will never leave...
How to Die in India
We rounded a corner and sped down the road, swerving between cabs and stray dogs, picking up speed as we entered a straight stretch...
Queen Mob's Teahouse
At 4 a.m. in yet another hotel room, the last dregs of the party thrusting about around her, Aria watches, content...
My Heart is a Cheap Fuck
Dig Boston & Slush Pile
SO, ALICE, WHERE SHALL we be off to today? The train game, again? Then the train game it shall be. Pick a platform, any platform! I know: I’ll close my eyes and let you sniff it out...
The Los Angeles Review
The mirror behind the stage is still streaked with handprints, smudges of sweat and body oil. The girls still climb up every few dances with spray bottles of glass cleaner and rags, wiping it up and down, back and forth, like slutty Cinderellas in their g-strings and bras...
The blare of a horn startles Nora out of her half-sleep. It’s coming from outside the window to the left of her bed, from the parking lot of the Newark Airport Best Western...
Utne Reader & Passionfruit
A woman, dangling her daughter by a skinny arm, emerges barefoot from the bathroom. Her filthy feet and wet, soiled sari brush against me as she stumbles over huddled bodies and sacks, expressionless, seeking her space...