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microfiction

Fiction, Issue 120, Prose

I Cannot Get The Moon To Look Good On This Phone Camera by Dallon Robinson

I feel like I could starve. My hunger has the velocity in which I could swallow every star, which is to say I could swallow each grain of sand, but I hate the taste of sand. As a child, I chewed everything: telephone cords, lawn clippings, once held a battery between my teeth. And of […]

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