Kenyon Review, Volume XLI, No. 6 (forthcoming)
“Passing through a Great Sorrow,” story by Caio Fernando Abreu

When they began talking like this it was already time to hang up, though he didn’t want to be the first to do it.


PEN America, (forthcoming)
“The Survivors,” story by Caio Fernando Abreu

People turned into corpses decomposing in front of me, my skin was sad and dirty, the nights never ended, no one touched me, but I reacted, got unsick.


The Massachusetts Review, Volume 60, Issue 1 (forthcoming)
“Beyond the Point,” story by Caio Fernando Abreu

I was realizing, inside the rain, that maybe I didn’t want him to know that I was me, and I was.


Los Angeles Review of Books Quarterly Journal: Epistolary Issue, No. 21
“The Sluts and the Saints: a Letter to Zézim,” essay by Caio Fernando Abreu

The solution, I agree, is not in restraint. You don’t have to restrain yourself; you have to eat out of the banquet, Zézim.