by Lunchbox Editor | Jan 23, 2026
Act I: The Provocation For Emerson and Stevens The rodent in the swamp went running...
by Lunchbox Editor | Jan 23, 2026
was everywhere you looked: was there in the cloud that looked like the omen of a fall and the crack in the cement in Spanish Harlem out of which nothing ever grew but a hopeful little bit of hallucination. He was the body of the fox on Bridgetown Road donning...
by Lunchbox Editor | Jan 23, 2026
She watched him once with big brown eyes, a quiet sigh after many story skies. Her heart waited, yet afraid to show the powerful fire he never grew to know. He drifted on, humming a tune he always returned to, while she shattered trying to stay strong. She realizes...
by Lunchbox Editor | Jan 23, 2026
I’ve only seen him 14 days this year. We’ve been a thousand miles apart for months, and I see him in photographs he sends me, bottle of vodka in his hand again, the beginning of another depressive episode, but why should I care? I seem to be thriving on my own without...
by Lunchbox Editor | Jan 23, 2026
on the edge of something, you breathe, your head just above the water. you stay afloat, your thoughts frantically kicking and swimming, allowing you to have just enough air to breathe. you wait for someone to pull you out, into their lifeboat, to dry you off and tell...
