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Alison C. Rollins
The boy is parenthesis, his shoulders curved, the huddled wings of a bird.
from the book Library of Small Catastrophes / Copper Canyon Press
Justyna Bargielska (translated from the Polish by Maria Jastrzębska)
Do you know what our odds are? Zero. But I've learnt to play for time
Danielle Weeks
When a girl in third grade stopped coming to school, we said she moved to Antarctica, or a witch turned her into a bird, or she swallowed too big of a marble and died.
Hai-Dang Phan
Would you recognize your soul if you bumped into it?

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