~
Food Court
It smelled like Sbarro and wishing wells, and Holly and I watched a man fall down the escalator. He was at a dead sprint with these two overweight security guards on his tail, and then he yelled something, and then one of his shoes caught, and the rest was gasping and clanging and whirring and fluorescence. Some people laughed. A few didn’t look up from their phones. Holly said, “Let’s get a look before they haul him away” because she wanted to see if he was still conscious, if what he yelled was really her name.
~
Brett Biebel
(additional pieces by Brett Biebel in this issue)
Thirdhand Man
Brett Biebel teaches writing and literature at Augustana College in Rock Island, IL. His (mostly very) short fiction has appeared in Hobart, SmokeLong Quarterly, The Masters Review, Wigleaf, and elsewhere. It’s also been chosen for Best Small Fictions and as part of Wigleaf‘s annual Top 50 Very Short Stories. 48 Blitz, his debut story collection, is available from Split/Lip Press.