
A place for stories about chronic illness, disability, mental health, and neurodivergence.

A Play in One Short Act Cast of Characters MYSELF: 60-year-old woman with dislocated kneecap MY BODY: Gruff offstage voice PlaceMyself’s home TimeDaytime Setting: Living room with couch and coffee table At Rise: Myself sits on couch, leg on coffee table, ice pack on knee. MY BODY (angrily) Happy now? Is this how you wanted…

The blinding sunshine and a cloudless sky make every yellow-green bush, mono-hued house, and dappled stray cat in the neighborhood look shiny. Freshly-mown grass mixed with dirt and hot asphalt perfume the air. Dead leaves litter the sidewalk with dewdrops reflecting sunlight like glitter. In the shadow of a big oak tree, a crow hops…

For the first time after nearly half a century, I finally returned to Songzi, where I decided to spend a whole week trying to fulfill my growing nostalgic needs.

Some men are breast men. Others are ass men. Will Donahue was an elbow man.

In each hand, I grip the exercise band and pull until the band is a taut swath of lime green. My nose twitches at the synthetic smell of rubber, as unnatural as the band’s color.

Jane Clayton and her dog, Mr. Snuggles, decide to have a great adventure together after they both receive the same diagnosis.

In this short, speculative story by V.M. Sawh, insurance is even more of a nightmare than it is IRL.

There it is. Printed for you; digitalized for all the world to see.

She needs me to be strong. My heart aches for her pain, the pain I have unknowingly given her.

Her supervisor is impressed with her ability, but she can only think of Don. She feels too much, they tell her. It’s a strength and a curse. Now comes the worst part of her job.