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Submitted to Contest #324
The young boy works the dugout’s rudder, minds the tiny motor’s hushed staccato. Nina, his only passenger, still doesn’t know his name. But this her third day in the rainforest, she is convinced the motor came from a lawn mower, though lawns are not to be found anywhere. Nina jumped at the idea of fishing for piranha, leaving the others in her small tour group back at the lodge, likely resting in hammocks. Only a dugout can access this portion of the rainforest. The unpredictable ebb and flow of the Amazon tributaries make mapping impossible...
A vendor wearing a suit in need of tailoring stops Nina and Jackson. He carries a ceramic saucer with small mounds of spices as colorful as discs of paint on an artist’s palette. “Coriander,” he says. “Fresh from Africa. You must try.” “I’ve bought coriander.” But this vendor’s spice is a slightly different hue from what she just purchased, what she otherwise expects of coriander. Should I know these variations? “You bought from Kagan, yes? Kagan lies. His coriander, not African but from his own back yard.” The man snorts and pulls a fresh...
Submitted to Contest #293
“Why does it take three hours and 48 minutes to fly here, and four hours to fly back?” the preteen asks, absorbed by the simulated world of his iPhone. He sits in the waiting area along with his parents and sister, their carry-ons, including four rollaboards, bunched around them, cramping their knees as if rehearsing for the airplane’s constrained seating. Coping with a spontaneous spasm, the father stretches one leg across the tops of two cobalt blue bags, both aflame with neon orange duct tape. This answers the question, Why do people buy ...
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