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Literature

Dear Mr. Christianson

The letter I should have wrote to Mr. Christianson: Thank you for going to bat for me, for bending the rules, for talking the principal into letting me graduate even though technically, I had too many absences, for seeing my talent and…

Calesa

In Nanaimo, I take a cab to work. I spend the midnight shift serving subs, Japa-dogs, and gourmet poutine, to the slurring, swaying, bar crowd crying out for more pickles, less pickles, no onions, more sauce please, this isn’t what I…

Backstage

Yannis skipped the line with the appropriate aplomb, glancing over his shoulder to notice it stretch down the block. He shook the hand of the head bouncer, Rufus, who was about the largest, ruddiest Englishman outside the world of…

Silhouette

The first bullet hissed and broke air spiraling from the rifle barrel; a kiss adiós blown from atop the Mandalay Bay lair. A Nevadan reaping concert goers’ bliss; few shelter from a hail of depleted uranium. Country music fades from…