Death Is A Comma

I’m thankful you’ve forgotten how you died. Your death was morphine drips and labored breaths. Me at your side, trying to keep my shit together as you disappeared. Your body. Your mind and memory. All that was you evaporated in that flower-stuffed hospital room.“I want to die before you,” you always said.And so you did….

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Michael Harris Cohen

Michael Harris Cohen’s fiction is published or forthcoming in Conjunctions, Black Candies, Nobrow, The Dark, Catapult’s Tiny Crimes, and PseudoPod. He’s the winner of the Modern Grimmoire Literary Prize, F(r)iction’s Short Story Contest, a Fulbright grant for literary translation, and fellowships from The Djerassi Foundation, OMI International Arts Center, Jentel, and the Künstlerdorf Schöppingen Foundation. His first book, The Eyes, was published by the once marvelous but now defunct Mixer Publishing. He lives with his wife and daughters in Sofia and teaches in the department of Literature and Theater at the American Univ  Find him online at


Bradley Clayton

Bradley Clayton is an illustrator living in Brooklyn. He lives with his cat and makes comics. He most enjoys drawing spooky things and women in mid-century fashions. Things he will make time in his day to talk about: Glenn Close’s Cruella made some valid points, Sabrina Spellman is one of the most interesting onscreen antagonists in years, and conspiracy theories. The weirder the better.

First Featured In: No. 17, winter 2020

The Memory Issue

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