Sajan

1. The Years of Loss Fifteen years ago, a tragic bus acc:ident on the Granada–Malaga highway forever altered the life of a young boy named Alejandro Ruiz. Though declared d3ad in the aftermath, Alejandro was in fact rescued by an old fisherman who found him clinging to debris off the coast of Almería.   The … Read more

It happened on Highway 19 — a day no one there would ever forget. Earl Henderson had been driving for sixteen straight hours, desperate not to lose a $15,000 contract. Sweat rolled down his temples as his semi idled behind him, the engine hissing like an angry beast. He was tired, angry, and one phone … Read more

The rain came down in sheets that night — cold, relentless, and loud enough to drown out the hum of passing cars. The streets were empty, except for one flickering streetlight that buzzed over the gas station on the corner of Maple and Third. Inside, Sienna Clark, a single mother of two, stood under the … Read more

The morning I learned I’d won the lottery, my coffee went cold in my hands. The ticket itself was soft with the oil of my fingers, the ink of the six numbers a little blurred from the crease I’d made in my wallet. I had laid it beside my phone on the kitchen table of … Read more

The radio on my shoulder crackled with the familiar static of end-of-watch. 8:50 PM. Another long Friday shift in the bag. Just paperwork, then I’d grab some takeout and relieve Mrs. Henderson, our saint of an elderly neighbor who watched Lily after school. My phone buzzed, and Lily’s face, grinning with a missing front tooth, … Read more

Five years earlier, my life had split once already. We were twenty-seven and driving home from a Friday night movie, Daniel’s hand on my knee, my bare feet pressing a heat print into the dashboard. A truck drifted across the centerline. The rest of my sentences from that year end in passive voice: the car … Read more

The echo of rolling suitcases and hollow, automated flight announcements was the only sound Edward Langford ever really heard. It was the soundtrack of his life, a rhythm of constant, relentless forward motion. JFK International Airport was a blur of gray slush and stressed faces, but Edward, 42, walked through it as if he were … Read more

I walked through the front door, and the smell of roast chicken and slightly-too-sweet air freshener hit me. It was the smell of every Sunday of my adult life. The smell of obligation. “Simon’s here!” Mom called out, like I was a guest and not the person who was expected to bring both dessert and … Read more

 My uncle said I’d be lucky if he didn’t kill me. But that night, in his isolated cabin, he demanded I remove the sack. My heart stopped… but when he saw my face, his heart stopped. The secret I was hiding was far worse than they knew. My fingers, numb from the cold and trembling, … Read more