“Dropping Like Flies” by Brian Lance

Flies pepper the window of my Fort Benning barracks room. I stun them with pine-scented Glade. With each spray they drop—well, like flies . . .

“Killing Time” by Kirsten Rae Simonsen

We arrived around three a.m. and banged on the door, which swung open. The tiny white apartment was filled with pasty-faced, sweating people, hopping and hollering to a harrowing type of Dutch hardcore techno that thumped angrily through the speakers . . .

“Fuck the Celebrities” by Sheila Mannix

He was talking too much; either he had unstable nerves or he was wasted. I asked what he was on.

“Blow,” he said. “Want some?”

I smiled like I felt sorry for him having to ask such a question. He handed me a bag under the table.

“Enjoy,” he said . . .

“Acid on the Fourth of July” by Amber Drea

For our first date, we decided to drop acid on the Fourth of July, 1998 . . .

“We lived on the edge of reality. Some nights we were happy.” by Anna Douglass

I lie on his couch. It’s my spot now. I’ve spent whole days lying here. The cushions remember the arch of my back and the angles of my arms and legs, so it’s easy to find my place again when I move. He sits at his desk—next to the couch, in front of a laptop—and waits for his phone to ring. He is a businessman. His business is crack. He is always on call . . .

“The Friendly Skies” by Linda Lenhoff

I was fine when I got on the road that morning—a little nervous, but I’d taken two Ativans. The pills were supposed to be strong enough to get me on the plane and all the way across the Midwest to LA. Not like last time . . .

“Demon in the Mirror” by Christophorus Cedenus

I spend most of my time synthesizing chemicals and looking out the door to see if anyone is coming. I am naturally paranoid . . .

“No Smoking” by Sara Dobie Bauer

She wondered what his skin felt like. There was little of it to see, wrapped in all black like a Bedouin woman in the desert . . .