He watches it drop silently into the trench between the soldier’s legs. Yuri clenches, as if the grenade has dropped into his own lap. The Russian soldier scrambles to rise up as the grenade explodes. Yuri stubs out his cigarette in

We found a middle-aged couple standing statue-like next to a new grave, a garish sign on the stonework reading Ghulam & Sons. I remember finding that interesting—a Muslim name in a Christian cemetery. Niharika said something about how sad the

I get hungry, so I swim close to the surface. When fish are together, turning in tight patterns for no reason other than to be social, it’s called shoaling. Birds I have seen, when I lived on land, do the same

A high-pitched staccato called out from the street behind, hawking kitchenware. Streets dotted with Durga puja pandals were in various stages of being undone. A few feet away, my mother’s rounded frame bent over a fruit cart, busy trying out little

Sundar’s voice had risen. His shawl had slipped into his lap. He sat there in the wind, in his torn vest. He appeared smaller and shrunk, his thin bones poked out of his shoulders like a sparrow’s. A single teardrop quivered at the end of his mustache. A part of...

He didn’t want to put out an ad. Online or newspaper, anywhere. The moment you do that, the phone will begin to ring constantly, he said. All kinds of people calling. Brokers! Who wants to deal with the brokers! He hoped to get someone through word of mouth. There were...

Her deliberate pulling back of her spinning out-of-control thoughts, by latitudes and then by degrees, that bump into her present-day life. Of her stacking and re-stacking of newspapers by date. Of her pushing their edges into alignment. Perhaps, in a bid to guarantee to her life a shape of order...

“Pocket full of posies!” She watched as a little girl appeared two houses down, dancing down the sidewalk. She was holding a doll in one hand, waving it wildly over her head as she sang. When she reached the old woman’s house, the child spun around and threw the doll into the air.

His aunt stayed angry until another American came to visit, a tall lady with yellow hair and lime green glasses. She took Sami back to the ruined home, snapped pictures of him in front of it. The tall lady paid his aunt a lot of money, enough to move to the mountain camp, where everything was better.

The dilemma in her dream woke her. She looked over and saw her husband, asleep. Her muscles ached from being unsettled. She looked around and saw a chasm of shifting shadows. Her chest felt tight, making it hard for her to catch a breath.

The old man looked out his window – the elderly are just like cats in many ways: from the number of hours they sleep per day, to the habit of peering out of the window at any chance they get (that is, basically every minute).

Good, you say; I’m relieved. You hail the waiter and order two more appetizers. You laugh. You have to keep up your strength you say. When the food comes, we both eat ravenously. I’m getting tired of talking. Let’s take a break, I say; why don’t you talk for a while?

“Hell,” he said, “It was just like a movie, Tish. Janie didn’t have a clue. I drove her out there, blind-fold and all. I brought her down to the dock. Took her blindfold off. She was blown away. Couldn’t believe it. She said, ‘Where are we?’

Gabby had been in this situation before. People hated to think someone had broken the law of averages. Everyone, she included, knew her luck would run out sooner or later. She’d had dates before where this had been a deal breaker.

Ace was a wide man. Over the years, he’d developed layers of fat over his muscle, earned from years of good eating and unseen manual labor on the mountain. His black beard was painted with shades of dusty grey. His face was wrinkled from smiling and squinting in the sun.

"...We don’t expect you to defend your piece – and I honestly don’t think it can be defended – but we would like to hear your thoughts as to what you’ve been told..."

Radney stood there like a lump of flesh, in boxers that had parrots printed all over them. He was completely bald on top but had fashioned his monk’s fringe into a tiny ponytail.

You stared at the textbook on your kitchen table. Your desk was next to your bed and you had to be as far away from your bed as possible.

I am the Alpha and Omega, the Lord of Lords and King of Kings. I am Elohim and Shàngdi, Hu and Zhŭ, Kartār and Khuda. Say my name.

What about unconditional faith? Isn’t it golden? Thoughts ricochet inside Hasan’s mind as he recollects the moments when he felt heavy in his heart because of believing in Allah. The moments of humiliation, confusion, anger, of being called backward, an antique, an old-fashioned fool by people half his age.

Words and water are life-giving: strictly essential. Like Noah’s flooded earth, words inundate, superfluously powerful. “The waters of the flood were upon the face of the earth…all the fountains of the great deep [were] broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened. And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights.”

You find a spot a few feet away from the pool. As you stomp on the shovel you are surprised at how sad you feel, but a momentary lapse causes you to consider rushing the burial so you can get back to the pool and go home, which only replaces the original sadness with an agonizing guilt.