We were sitting in Ma’s Diner when a grey elephant tumbled through the front door, did a handstand, and flipped into our booth. No surprise there—all elephants are grey. But the pom-poms clutched in her trunk? Ribbons the colors of a Madagascan sunset cascaded onto our fries, fountained on our tongues. Our eyes stretched wide as saucers, then closed in ecstasy as we savored their cinnamon bite. When we swallowed, our insides glowed rainbows. We remembered the times our mothers brought us hot cocoa on cold, snowy nights, how our fathers pushed our swings when we were tiny. Our first puppies licking our faces. When we opened our eyes, the cheerleader was gone. Our shoulders sagged. Would we see her again? When we paid the bill, we asked the cashier for her name, but she said she couldn’t remember.
writes tiny stories and advocates for animals. Her work has been long-listed for the Wigleaf Top 50 and nominated for Best American Short Stories, Best Microfiction, Best of the Net, Best Small Fictions, and the Pushcart Prize. She has stories in Best Microfiction 2024 and Best Small Fictions 2024, and forthcoming in Best Small Fictions 2025.
Her writing also appears in 100 word story, Atlas and Alice, Bending Genres, The Citron Review, The Disappointed Housewife, The Dribble Drabble Review, Flash Boulevard, Gone Lawn, New World Writing, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Midway Journal, Milk Candy Review, Mslexia, The Offing, Tiny Molecules, trampset, and elsewhere. She lives in New Mexico.
