For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form


Claire Vaye Watkins


Except out here the night got so dark and the kids got so loaded they'd forget where they stowed their fireworks. They'd forget they even had fireworks. They'd drink like men, like their fathers and uncles, like George fucking Washington, take off their shirts and thump their chests and scream into the wide black space. Pass out in their truck beds and let their tipsy girlfriends drive them home all in a line. Leave their stash for an old man to scavenge come sunup. 

We read it in Battleborn.

Originally published in One Story. Issue: 140.