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	<description>beautiful, complex, daring</description>
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		<title>David Landau</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2012/02/20/david-landau/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 19 Feb 2012 21:00:57 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[David Landau]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=457</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Glint of the Moon “When I grow up I want to be an astronaut,” the boy said. “And blast off to the stars!” said the father. They were looking at the moon out the window. “I want my own rocket ship, dad. And then I can explore the universe. That’s what I want when [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=457&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Philip Kobylarz</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 12 Feb 2012 21:00:24 +0000</pubDate>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=437</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I still go on having the most impossible and not very seemly love affairs. – Van Gogh &#160; How High the Moon &#160;    The dingy white carpeting is stained in what seems to be blood or years of tea spillage &#38; yet she asks me to take off my shoes. She is Japanese. I [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=437&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Liam Spencer</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 05 Feb 2012 21:00:25 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Liam Spencer]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=422</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Bulls in the attic I rolled over in the uncomfortable bed. My back was killing me. Ugh, another day of this shit. It was 10:30 in the morning, and my head hurt worse than usual. I rose and went for the only known cure for the morning blah; coffee. After the pot was set, I [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=422&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Joe Cappello</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2012/01/30/joe-cappello/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 29 Jan 2012 21:00:28 +0000</pubDate>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=417</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Free Spaces Ted found Andy at the elevators bent over the window ledge, his arms supporting him, his shoulders hunched. As he approached, he could see Andy was breathing heavily, the unbuttoned sides of his bl ue blazer moving in and out in response to each breath. Ted slowed down as he got closer not [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=417&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Regina Clarke</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2012/01/23/regina-clarke/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 22 Jan 2012 21:00:26 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Regina Clarke]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=408</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Echoes I wandered through the old house, expecting the memories, but none came. Surely the plain boards and the old wallpaper, the dish towel by the sink, the unwashed windows, have something to say. It was all silent, dust motes in beams of light here and there. Only my footsteps loud on the stairs. A [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=408&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Scott Carpenter</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 15 Jan 2012 21:00:49 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Scott Carpenter]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=403</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Parasite I’d been surly for weeks. “What’s eating him?” my friends would say. All I felt was a black mood, filled with anxiety and remorse, scratching inside of me. Then, one day, I discovered a hard fleck on the sole of my foot, stuck under the skin like a splinter of wood, the kind [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=403&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Paul Gigas</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2012/01/09/paul-gigas-2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 08 Jan 2012 21:00:56 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Paul Gigas]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=390</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The Sign It was almost Christmas. The frozen sky followed me into Al&#8217;s Bar, and I slammed shut the door against it. Bones sat on the bar stool closest to the big window. &#8220;Hi yer, Stranger,&#8221; Bones said. It was cold and dark outside, but warm and bright inside Al&#8217;s Bar. It was very cold [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=390&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Hila Katz</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2012/01/02/hila-katz/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 01 Jan 2012 21:00:32 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Hila Katz]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=385</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Coughing Through Shostakovich It was my first performance at Alice Tully Hall, and I couldn’t stop coughing. An orchestra playing Mahler might have muffled me, but I was one of only four people on stage, the second violinist spluttering through the second movement of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor. The tickling in [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=385&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Charlotte Lenox</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2011/12/26/charlotte-lenox/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 25 Dec 2011 21:00:10 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Charlotte Lenox]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=380</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Broken Silence When the teacher ambled by his desk, he used his flabby arms to shield his paper. She knew what he was writing, what he was inflicting with his sweaty Ticonderoga. She had even told his parents, but they had done nothing in response. &#8220;At least he&#8217;s not playing those video games,&#8221; his parents [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=380&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<title>Jane Flett</title>
		<link>http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/2011/12/19/jane-flett/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 18 Dec 2011 21:00:43 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Jane Flett]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://subtlefiction.wordpress.com/?p=375</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Bounce Two boys standing in the road with the throb of summer, the tarmac swooning like a Tennessee virgin offered her first swatch of stubbled jawbone, the boys bouncing a huge ball between them. Taut and cobalt and weightless. And Michael doesn’t want to play, Michael wants to be inside where he can lie on [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=subtlefiction.wordpress.com&amp;blog=21385221&amp;post=375&amp;subd=subtlefiction&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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