For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form


Junot Diaz


That was the summer when everything we would become was hovering just over our heads. Girls were starting to take notice of me; I wasn’t good-looking but I listened and was sincere and had boxing muscles in my arms. In another universe I probably came out O.K., ended up with mad novias and jobs and a sea of love in which to swim, but in this world I had a brother who was dying of cancer and a long dark patch of life like a mile of black ice waiting for me up ahead.