Fiction

Freya feels glamorous, commanding, when she exits a plane. In Brussels, in Burbank, arrival feels strong. She likes to be on her feet again, reclaiming the atmosphere, the world at eye level. The person you envision waiting is the one who matters most. The people she sees, even now, are her parents. Not the boyfriends…

You be the flowering lily, I’ll be the broken- down car on the lawn. Isn’t this May afternoon, this glass of iced tea, the breeze worth lying for? Let us drive through the heart of spring and never leave the yard. We’ll wrap our lips around the nozzle of the garden hose and drink to…

When the wildness comes over her again, the villagers give her a wide berth and well they should. The rage runs so hot through her blood that she won’t even throw herself into the sea—the force of her fury would only bob her back to the surface. When she meets Bride in the lane, she…

What they did to Eddie the night he overdosed was put tubes up his nose and needles in both arms and then roll him into a room in the hospital where machines made dull roaring noises, and he had to hear the hissing inhalations from other bodies in other beds. It was not even quiet….

When Tayo Musa was awaiting execution, his primary emotion was surprise. He had not foreseen his life turning out this way—which is to say, ending this way. He was not a political person. He had joined the marches because his friends said they were about freedom. Mr. Musa liked the idea of freedom, and his…

What has stayed happened long ago, but Milty can’t remember reaching for his quad cane this morning. On the kitchen table where he sits are the notes he’s written to himself. His handwriting looks like it was done by some old drunk, and they’re yellow sticky notes that Donna bought for him, which he only…

For Alan J. Singerman, in token of friendship Murakami Harukidesu. I am Murakami Haruki. My novels have been translated all around the world, and when the latest one comes out, my readers line up all night to buy it as soon as possible—my books are as eagerly awaited as a Beatles album when I was young….

Janelle is my oldest friend, but the word “friend” is outdated. We are sitting in a diner that smells of old oil and toxic cleaning solution. My personal chef prepared a salmon benedict an hour before we got on the road, which Janelle refused before plopping down on an antique divan and barely looking at…

Last week, unfortunately on one of the evenings when Haseeb was home in time for dinner with me and the children, the watchman informed us that Mariam had died. Haseeb was annoyed on two accounts: one, that Mariam’s brother was outside and demanded to speak to me; two, that I hadn’t listened to his advice…