by Wilson Koewing NASA Hurricane Ethan was coming, so we drove to lake Pontchartrain and watched it arrive. The sky was sickly gray. Waves crashed over the levee, frothy washing machine. I took her photo, red hair blazing in the breeze. She wore blue sunglasses that matched her blouse. I posted it and several guys I hadn’t talked to since high school made thirsty comments. When we got home, she made a gumbo. I sat in a chair watching her stir the roux. The wind howled against

by Wilson Koewing Adrien Stachowiak I left the reception afterparty and wandered out to the beach for a smoke. The full moon pooled soft light over the ocean that trailed a narrowing path back to the breakers. I lit a Spirit and listened to the waves. The sound of shouting and music from the rented house was dulled by the wind. I heard people splashing in the pool and a couple’s giggling grow fainter in the darkness as they snuck away down the beach. “Hey, man,” Jack startled