I want to write a story where we end differently, a story that breaks open the
if-onlys and leaves only the sheer mathematics of if-thens.
Tonight, you asked me if I wished when we saw the star falling. I said no, said
“Wishes never come true.” This was unnecessarily melodramatic, but it
makes for a decent story. There, the two of us—this simple exchange, the
histories implied.
This, then, is how I will write of us. An ironic snippet—romantic in only the
most foolish sense of the word. And quick. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of
fling. A so very short story. A sentence, only.
poetry has appeared in The New York Quarterly, Hazmat Review, Grasslimb, and
Rattle among others. His short fiction has been published in The Meadow,
Oyster Boy Review, KYSO Flash, and Microfiction Monday Magazine.
Russell currently lives in Wyoming with his wife, daughter, and two cats. In the past,
he has lived in Ohio and New York. He holds a BA in English from the University of
Wyoming and was the editor of their Owen Wister Review. He has held jobs in
vocations ranging from hotel maintenance to dive bar DJ to retail management.
