Fiction
The Bricks are Shrieking
It was the second of June, two-thousand-and-two. Cal Jacobs sat in an uncomfortable rolling chair made of plastic and polyester, staring out the tenth floor
It was the second of June, two-thousand-and-two. Cal Jacobs sat in an uncomfortable rolling chair made of plastic and polyester, staring out the tenth floor
An independent literary magazine for contemporary fiction, thought, and opinion about popular culture, society, and everything on the periphery.
