by Jeanne Mack Yara We had a not-so-fast car that shuddered and shook down monumental, mostly-wild interstates in the early dark that came slipping over us as the natural progression after a purple, golden twilight. We had rock-stack mountains rising, throwing red-tinged shadows into the feathery field, visible in silhouette as we bumped Paul’s favorite Hold Steady album and I ate gas-station sour candy, sticky between my fingers. Spread out, in the back seat, after a lacklus

by Jeanne Mack Etienne Girardet November 2014 Cherry angiomas are usually found on people 30 or older, but I’ve had a red dot under my right eyelid since I was born. My mom once told me it was the intersection of capillaries, right under the surface of my skin, overlapping so tightly that eventually their coloration piled up to shine through. It was a round and painless miniature red spot. For most of 2014, I woke up each morning nervous that it might’ve shrunk or faded, nerv