“Sophie Wins” by Michael Morshed

After writing a suicide letter addressed to her fiancé, Sophie tooted three fat lines of heroin, then downed some pills just to make sure . . .

“Seaside” by Sam Stauffenger

The stink from the dead man against the far wall began to engulf the room . . .

“Eve” by Vincent Poturica

Breathing hard, Eve unlaces her shoes. She knocks them together and watches the sand fall onto the wooden stairs. She stretches her legs and watches the black waves. Eve runs every morning before sunrise, past the jetty and all the way to the sea caves. She feels better when she’s exhausted . . .

“Only the Lonely” by Deborah Batterman

Saturday night, six o’clock on the nose. Emma turns on the radio—her favorite show, her favorite station, always a Frank Sinatra number at the top of the playlist. She relishes the element of surprise, the musical finesse it takes to segue from torch songs to golden oldies that render her a teenager sunning on the beach. Nobody used sunblock back then. Sunburn let you know summer had arrived. Noxzema got you through the pain . . .

“Shelley and Harvey” by Caroline Bock

Shelley was the one who married Harvey right out of college, whose parents went into debt for the wedding, saying it was worth it—that he was worth it, they should have said . . .

“Sugaring Off” by Margaret Barbour Gilbert

We went to dinner at the Russian Tea Room on West 57th Street. There was a gypsy beggar in the cold with a melancholy accordion player near the door. The music made me so sad I wanted to cry, but I went inside with Sir Rudolf . . .

“Parenting, Barbershop-style” by Nkosi Ife Bandele

First of all, lemme say that Big Ted’s my man. He always gives me a tight cut, and he’s cool, you know, funny. Got that educated-like slang. (Apparently he did a lot of reading in the joint . . .)

“Death Leaves the Seat Up” by Bill Landauer

“I want to let you both know, Mr. and Mrs. Evighet, that what happens in this office remains here, okay? You can say anything. Think of this as a sanctuary. Mrs. Evighet—may I call you Rebecca?”

“Becky.”

“And Mr. Evighet, I’m a little unclear on your first—”

“THE YAWNING INFINITE IS MY PLAYGROUND, THE SEAS BUT A DROP IN THE FOREVER THAT IS—”

“Bob, you promised! . . .”