You’re consumed by mold, gene expression, test results. What comes in the night so cold and expressionless that you forget to stay bewildered by spring saplings and evening primrose. You’re new the moment he brings you wispy dandelions picked while taking out the trash. Make a wish, he says.

Jenny Stalter (she/her) is a writer and former private chef. Her work was selected for Best Small Fictions 2024, and she was a recipient of the 2023 Smokelong Quarterly Emerging Writer Fellowship. Her fiction appears in Longleaf Review, Moon City Review, Citron Review, Cease, Cows, Ghost Parachute, and other publications. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, Best Microfiction, and Best American Short Stories.

Bluesky: @jennystalter.bsky.social
Instagram: @jennystalterwrites
Twitter (inactive): @JennyStalter