Sarah Freligh

What You Wouldn’t Do

By Sarah Freligh

Metaphors for a Tumor Like a spaceship was flying through a meteor shower in her boy’s skull. Knock knock, he’d…

Thirty Years After Graduation, I Spy You in Aisle Five   

By Sarah Freligh

I’d have bet prison, fifteen to life for offing your ex while he slept next to the younger blonde who’d…


By Sarah Freligh

Kat goes missing again, but not really. She’s where she usually is—passed out, pants on backward, in the Wawa parking…


By Sarah Freligh

Because Davie Gray is protected by the blood of Jesus and his scripture-spouting pastor daddy, he stays in the classroom…

We Smoke

By Sarah Freligh

We smoke because the nuns say we shouldn’t—he-man Marlboros or Salems, slender and meadow fresh, over cups of thin coffee…

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