by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
her husband loved chocolate. she was always finding sweets in his jacket pocket. it was never a secret but always a surprise. more than the chocolate itself, her husband loved the smile on his granddaughter’s face as he revealed the shiny gold-wrapped chocolate from...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
The air was a heavy thing in August, but strong enough that a family lived on it. The brothers and their girlfriends had dinner outside for a week together in Maine, and all the corporate-sounding jobs looked the other way. It was beautiful enough to know these types...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
My mother has been around more than 13 billion years. Once she was helium hydride, forming the first stars which were hotter and brighter than the sun. My mother—imagine! But now she is just hydrogen, the lightest element, the one with the simplest atomic...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
before we gave up and died a little, we watched that funny show about old people and laughed our hearts out. We are now at the age those old people were on that show, and we do the same stupid things they did, we frown and give up and die like they died, and...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
I open the cooler door with my right hand as I attempt with my left to clear the shopping cart from oncoming traffic in the dairy aisle, and I’m nodding my head with feigned interest in my littlest’s chatter and so the child, an opportunist since his...
by Centaur Lit | Jan 30, 2026 | Winter 2026
My daughter and I are standing in Ceely’s tiny apartment for the first time since Ceely’s death by suicide. Her schizophrenia was a road through thirty years, and a road out. Jill and I cry together as we wander around picking up a teacup, a book, a tiny...