Pictures—The Beach Outside of Nice by Nance Knauer Nick skipped across the scattered light with a catamaran while I sat and watched from the shade. Click. He was out of practice, and the rope slipped through his hands too fast, leaving a red burn across his back from hip to shoulder. An hour later, when he sat beside me and a swimmer running to her towel kicked sand up against his welts, I brushed his back with my fingers. "We should put something on that." He flinched. "Mmmm." A short silence, and then, "Why didn't you sail with me?" "I told you. I'm no good on boats." I tightened my belly and fluffed my hair as a bronze beauty, all legs and coconut oil strolled by. "You've haven't told me why." He watched her dive into the surf. Click. "My father tried to drown me when I was a baby. Put me in a canoe and shoved it out onto the lake during a storm. They didn't find me until the next day. Haven't been on a boat since." "I never know when you're joking." I had the urge to place my palm against his heart as he turned but I reached for an ice cube from my drink instead. "Does it matter?" I turned him back around and rubbed the ice along his burn. "Christ, that's cold!" He shivered and I waited for him to answer. "Ultimately? Yes, it matters." I pictured him smiling as he said it. Click. I tried to smile as I replied. "I'm going back to Edinburgh tomorrow." He shivered again. I imagined him laughing. I filled in the silence with portraits of us, running along the sand, splashing and falling into the waves. His voice came through quiet and sharp. "Go on, then." Clouds or someone's shadow dimmed the light until I couldn't see, and I grinned like an idiot. Click. "See? You can tell. You knew right away I wasn't joking." I think he left then. I don't remember. I was having trouble seeing, and then there was too much light, but I believe he was smiling. I'm almost certain. I might have a picture of him somewhere. All content in SmokeLong Quarterly copyright 2003-2008 by its authors.
	Fond of the South, but not the heat, Nance Knauer continues to move further north with each decade. Having settled for now in Minneapolis, she is currently working on a collection of short stories, some of which can be seen at the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, the Sidewalk's End and Word Riot. She secretly wonders why in the name of sanity did she encourage her husband to quit smoking. Read the interview.
	Issue Two (December 15, 2003): The Natural Order by Barbara Jacksha «» View From A Flying Jimmy by Tammy Turner «» ISO by Bret Fetzer «» Magic Yeast by Louisa Howerow «» Must Sign for Delivery by Jade Walker «» Memoirs of a Jump Rope Queen by Margaret A. Frey «» Nolo Contendere by Sean Oakley «» Campfire Conversation by Lennart Lundh «» Snap Shot by Peggy Duffy «» Fear by Rose McDonagh «» Because of Penguins by Jane Sales «» With Love, Moon by Eugenia E. Gratto «» Private Services by Diana Forrester «» Red Flecks by Louise Jackson «» Pictures—The Beach Outside of Nice by Nance Knauer «» Love and Death in Legoland by Kay Sexton «» Sunset in Santa Monica by Didi Wood «» Fragile by Eric Wrisley «» Interviews: Barbara Jacksha «» Tammy Turner «» Bret Fetzer «» Louisa Howerow «» Jade Walker «» Margaret A. Frey «» Sean Oakley «» Lennart Lundh «» Peggy Duffy «» Rose McDonagh «» Jane Sales «» Eugenia E. Gratto «» Diana Forrester «» Louise Jackson «» Nance Knauer «» Kay Sexton «» Didi Wood «» Eric Wrisleya «» Cover Art "Platinum" by Malina «» Letter From the Editor