Prague by Kathy Fish art by Robinson Accola A chandelier. A marble staircase. Hard rain against tall windows. The desk clerk tells me this hostel had once been fancy and that the president had stayed there. Or did he say The Police? Everything sounds muffled in this country, like I have swimmer’s ear. In the room, which is appropriately shitty, two German girls, friends, and a girl from Hoboken. I empty my backpack onto my bunk: euros and condoms, a photo of my dog, digestive biscuits, a can of mace, and a bottle of spring water with a picture of a cow on it. The cow is a mystery. I don’t want to share the biscuits, but they’ve seen them and now I have to. We speak English about train tickets and cheap wine. The Hoboken girl had a fight with her boyfriend and now she’s traveling alone. The boyfriend left his socks everywhere, that’s why. He’s a folk singer, she says, and a slob. She wheezes like she’s having an asthma attack. I think of him singing The Boxer or something else mournful and tender and I wonder if he was the one who broke up. The German girls pass around a joint. A fuck singer? But how was he at the sex? Did he...? And they make gestures with their fingers that neither the Hoboken girl nor I can decipher. They make jokes about the boyfriend’s penis. The Hoboken girl starts to wail. I keep my head bent over my postcard, writing: blah, blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah, leave her alone, blah blah blah blah blah. A note slithers under the door: Have more silence please! The Hoboken girl sticks her thumb in her mouth, which makes the German girls laugh, which makes her suck harder. She lopes over and sits next to me, trying to read my postcard. I’m writing : li la li li la li li li la li, li la li. She asks me where I’m going next. She says she needs a doctor and maybe we can travel together. Two American girls. How about that? And then we can find her a doctor. Okay? I know what she needs, but the lie slides out. I am flying out of here tomorrow. I am sorry. Even my own voice sounds underwater. All content in SmokeLong Quarterly copyright 2003-2010 by its authors.
	Kathy Fish's stories are published or forthcoming in Indiana Review, Denver Quarterly, FRiGG, Wigleaf, Keyhole, Quick Fiction, and elsewhere. A collection of her work is now available from Rose Metal Press in a book entitled "A Peculiar Feeling of Restlessness: Four Chapbooks of Short Short Fiction by Four Women." Read the interview. Robinson Accola creates artwork for SmokeLong Quarterly as needed.
	Issue Twenty-Six (September 28, 2009): The Teaching Assistant and the Math Professor by Shaindel Beers «» Ask for This by Myfanwy Collins «» Arrows by Lydia Copeland «» Pregnant With Peanut Butter by Michael Czyzniejewski «» How to Disappear Completely by Nadine Darling «» The Guitarist by Will Donnelly «» Prague by Kathy Fish «» Record Albums by Sherrie Flick «» Cooped by Alyson Foster «» Eye by Foust «» Grendel by Steven Gullion «» First Husband by Tiff Holland «» They Marched Into Fields by Jamie Iredell «» Port of Spain by Beverly A. Jackson «» Nobody Like You by Jeff Landon «» Little Girls by Tara Laskowski «» Office at Night by Pamela Painter «» So Long by Ellen Parker «» Quiet Things by Lauren M. Spencer «» My Girlfriend Leaves the Atmosphere by Angi Becker Stevens «» In Julie's Place by S. A. Tranter «» Blue-Suited Henchman, Kicked Into Shark Tank by Kevin Wilson «» 2 / 8 by Joseph Young «» Interviews: Shaindel Beers «» Myfanwy Collins «» Lydia Copeland «» Michael Czyzniejewski «» Nadine Darling «» Will Donnelly «» Kathy Fish «» Sherrie Flick «» Alyson Foster «» Foust «» Steven Gullion «» Tiff Holland «» Jamie Iredell «» Beverly A. Jackson «» Jeff Landon «» Tara Laskowski «» Pamela Painter «» Ellen Parker «» Lauren M. Spencer «» Angi Becker Stevens «» S. A. Tranter «» Joseph Young «» Cover Art "Birds of Paradise" by Marty D. Ison «» Letter From the Editor