71 lede

Free Will by Kayla O'Connell  

“What was it like?” He looked at her with tired eyes, wondering if he should have put the question off until morning; she looked away, shrugged his hand off of her hair. It was clear that the answer, she wanted to keep to herself. “When...” “You know...” “You don’t want to say it.” “No.” “Were you there?” she asked. “I was.” He gave her a glass of water and it tasted like light.
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Medardo Meets His Maker. A True Story by Elvis Bego

Medardo is sitting on a bench behind the white slabs of Santa Maria Formosa in Venice, watching three girls lined in front of the water pipe that gushes next to the old sealed well as they one by one fill their cupped hands and drink. The ungodly sun throwing lava on the roofs, the heads and the flagstones, making surfaces shimmer.

Perritos by Evan Coleman

It lay there, there, where the crumbling sidewalk was cast in shadow, the darkness hiding its features, dim light blending its fur into the matted backs of others, giving the illusion that with the right whistle it would rise from the stained cement, and perhaps bark, perhaps walk nimbly away with tail tucked between legs. Our white legs were stretching long and lucid, cutting the burning Nicaraguan air with our strides, pulling our bodies and minds past the tragedy of the dog in the dark.