Floor Plans

When Lev says “things” he means our marriage, and when he says “fail” he means a decision he has already made without me. 
The Southern Review, Summer 2017

In conversation with Kathleen Boland about the story here

Back Talk

When the boy who barely speaks says to you, "it’s too bad, who you are," into your ear at a party, you know better than to turn your head.
Copper Nickel, Spring 2017


This is how the next eight months will go: George won’t ask me what I want but he will give me what I need. Here I am, being a kind of girl I swore I’d never be, but it’s just for a little while, and I like letting him handle it, every time he tells me something is okay even when it’s not. 
Colorado Review, Summer 2016

Landscape No. 27

Remember when we hiked where we weren’t supposed to? We missed a trail mark and didn’t notice for a good half mile.
Indiana Review, Winter 2015

Listen to Danielle read the story here

Ghost Dog

Who cares, I think, as Owen presses his forehead against mine, whether he believes in ghosts? I still have my father’s discarded hospital bracelets in a drawer, so who am I to say what is right to collect, to keep? 
People Holding, Fall 2015

Spider Legs

I don’t know my brother and sister well, despite these quarterly trips to Paris. While I spent my childhood perfecting how not to be a problem, Jack and Jill were at boarding school, special summer camps for troubled youth, with tough-love therapists and patient aunts in California.
Glimmer Train Stories, #88, Fall 2013
"The Best Story I Read in A Lit Mag This Week"


On Friday night, babysitting night, Claire waited at the end of the driveway, her breath appearing in the air before her. She pulled her wool hat over her damp hair and crossed her arms and watched for the gunmetal gray of Noah Hunt’s sports car to appear from around the corner of Trellen Street. 
Five Chapters, 2010


Mirabelle and I began collecting the names of the dead girls in December, after Marissa Hull fell out of an apartment window on Broadway.
Boston Review, Summer 2008

The Holographic Soul

“We’re psychic, you know,” V. says, appearing suddenly between us.
“Vanessa,” I warn. Usually we don’t offer the trick to adults—they all assume we’re lying, and so they fake belief; their playing along is worse than anything we could be accused of by our peers.
Michigan Quarterly Review, Winter 2008