Here is my story Endogamy, published by Eyedrum. An Iraqi-American family seems oddly calm about the death of their cousin. There are thrown donuts; and sex clubs. Enjoy. Here’s the first few paragraphs to get you interested:
Angie took another sip of beer before replying. “You have to understand, I haven’t even seen Emily in, like, a year. And I didn’t know her that well. She was … always really nice. As in, polite. Not high-maintenance: she was a vegetarian, but one time there was only chicken soup and she just shrugged and had some. No drama. But no effort, either. I always got the feeling she’d just as soon be at home reading a book.”
“No, that wasn’t it,” Megan said. “She was just always behind the camera.” She pointed behind Angie, at the plate glass window giving a view onto Flat Shoals Avenue. A typical East Atlanta crowd: two-thirds hipsters, one-third hip-hoppers.
“That’s it. I forgot: She made films. I never saw one.”