When I was younger I’d spend entire days kissing a troubled boy. We’d sit in his cramped bedroom, in between piles of graying laundry, and shoot billows of white smoke into each other’s mouths – clouds collecting around our heads.
– From “Fighting Over the Best Flavor in Neopolitan Ice Cream” by Jane-Rebecca Cannarella
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Contributors: Bruce Alford, Jessica Bastear, Jane-Rebecca Cannarella, Elisabeth Cook, Matthew Liebowitz, Valya Dudycz Lupescu, Ed Nichols, Alyssa D. Ross