![](data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,<svg height="298" width="450" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" version="1.1"/>)
He didn’t want the game to end. Each time he took her to the brink of consciousness, to the point where she hoped that she would slip over into the black and never return, but she survived. Natalie hated games.
Stories and Stills
From sad
![](data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,<svg height="281" width="450" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" version="1.1"/>)
Bill’s Funeral (short story)
I tried to remember him younger but I only saw his face in those final weeks, gaunt, shrunken, and a trail of yellow-green mucus streaming from his nostrils
For Better
The swinging door hit my chair so hard that it shoved me into the table I was already pressed too tightly against and my mostly full beer launched a hoppy spout like the snort of a great whale from its mouth with a trajectory for Alice’s face.