• New short fiction, every week.
    The words you know and love . . .
    in a totally different order.

  • Archives:
    Catherine Lacey

    8. Remove Yourself

    By Catherine Lacey


    I am asking you to remove yourself from my automobile.

    I was still. I stayed in my seat.

    Werner, this is ridiculous, you know I don’t have anywhere else to go.

    Werner took the keys out of the ignition, got out of the car, opened the trunk and put my backpack on the sidewalk, gently, as if it was living, then he got back into the car.

    Remove yourself from my automobile.

    I was silent. I opened the door and got out and he turned the car on again.

    It was hard not to take it personally, how fast he drove away.

    A man sitting on the library steps waved excitedly like he had been expecting me to show up. I looked at him and half-waved back, but then he realized that we didn’t know each other so he shrugged and turned back to talk to the man sitting beside him. . . . Read More.

    Our Friends

  • They Come in Collections, Too

    New and Impending from Harper Perennial: