Caitlin Farrugia


I have no friends who ask about me. Well except Mov.

“Oi get in,” she says.

I climb into her blue panel van. She looks wrecked. I am wrecked. Two wrecked women. Her cigarette is smoldering—ash falls to her … Read the rest

Keene Short

After Zion

We were covered in dust and sweat, patches of bodily mud, when we finally found a campsite. We set up the tent in the heat, then drove the broken dried riverbed called a road back to the highway … Read the rest