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A Proper Removal by Michael New

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Marcus is stuck on a report, and running out of time before the deadline, when his friend Ruth calls him up in need of his help. Image generated with OpenAI Marcus sits in his office by the garage, staring at the spreadsheet, fingers nervously tapping on the keyboard, thinking: Well, you brought it all on yourself. Why did he even open his mouth when Mr. Frigstad asked who could handle optoelectronics? The reports stacked up in his office form a collage in his mind of an industry resembling something, at this point, painted by Kandinsky. Within a couple of days, he was drowning in information. He knew he had to synthesize, but with each attempt, his thinking became tighter, more restricted, and confused. It's already Tuesday afternoon. By ten o'clock tomorrow morning, his report must be emailed to Mr. Frigstad. He leans back, stretches, and spots his phone on the bookcase. He steps over the dirty carpet, between piles of books and reports, and picks up the phone. Before he re...
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The Last Regeneration by Amir Lotfi

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Manhattan kingpin Leone needs an illegal operation to stay alive, but it may already be too late. Image generated with OpenAI I. The city never truly slept in 2059, but Leone Battaglia did - or tried to. The glow of Manhattan's skyline bled through the floor-to-ceiling glass of his fifty-third floor apartment, painting faint blue geometries across the ceiling. Somewhere below, delivery drones hummed their ceaseless routes between towers. Beside him, a woman whose name he had not asked breathed slowly in the dark. He had been asleep for perhaps two hours when it arrived. Not pain, exactly. Not at first. More like a pressure - a slow, insistent fist closing around something deep in the center of his chest. Leone had felt it enough times to know exactly what it was before his eyes had fully opened. He lay still for a moment in the blue dark, a heavyset man of fifty-six with a gray-streaked beard and the kind of face that had long ago stopped apologizing for anything. He stared at the...
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165 Days by Karl Hyppolite

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Mike gets into Duke University, but worries about the complications that might prevent him from carrying out his studies. Image generated with OpenAI Mike pulled his favorite hoodie off the hanger. Plain gray, soft at the sleeves, and stitched with the Duke logo. It was barely fifty-five degrees out - a cold snap by Miami standards - but that wasn't why he chose it. He sat on the bed and reached for his phone. Notifications buzzed across the screen - texts from Mateo, a Snap from Cynthia, an IG tag. But it was the notepad icon in the corner that pulled his eyes. 165 days left. He stared for a beat too long. Knock knock knock. "You're good, Mik?" he called. Mikayla cracked open the door. Eleven years old, sharp-tongued, and already pushing her way into grown business. She stepped inside, plopped onto her twin bed across the room, and crossed her legs. "You really going to that party?" "Yeah," Mike said. "First and last one, maybe." ...
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Spilt Milk by Ya Lan Chang

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Xueling takes her son Eliot home to Singapore, leaving Daddy back in Britain, and her feelings about motherhood come to a head when she runs into an ex. Image generated with OpenAI While strolling along the Singapore river towards Botero's Bird, Xueling is startled by a familiar figure. She stops, staring, as he saunters down the steps of UOB Plaza 1. It's been five years, and he's looking at his phone, but it's him: the swimmer's shoulders, the high forehead, the confident gait. He's striding towards her. He will see her if he looks up. Her feet harden into cement, her voice cowers in her throat. Of all the people to run into on her first trip home in five years. After so much has faded. After all this time. Before she can react, he glances up, right at her. He halts. Squints. And breaks into a smile. Quickening his pace, he says 'is it really you?' as he reaches her. She brushes away her fringe, but it remains stuck to her forehead. 'Hi. Yes, it...
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