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The Loss Detector
The Loss Detector
The Loss Detector
Ebook49 pages41 minutes

The Loss Detector

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Set in coastal California, The Loss Detector is a funny/sad portrait of teenage blues and of a small, transplanted family of non-conformists. The flawed but lovable characters in Meg Pokrass' novella remind us of how the world's most beautiful places are not always the easiest in which to thrive. Moments of giddy, perceived freedom set against resignation dot the narrative in such a way that will leave you changed. 

Release dateOct 15, 2020
The Loss Detector
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    The Loss Detector - Meg Pokrass

    The Loss Detector

    A Novella-in-Flash


    Meg Pokrass

    Bamboo Dart Press



    The Loss Detector by Meg Pokrass

    ISBN: 978-1-947240-03-2

    eISBN: 978-1-947240-04-9

    Copyright © 2020 Meg Pokrass. All rights reserved.

    First Printing 2020

    The Big Dipper, originally published in the collection Damn Sure Right (Press 53) and in Fractured Lit

    The Bug Man, originally published in Tin House and in the collection Alligators At Night (Ad Hoc Fiction)

    Perfecto, a version of this story was published in Storysouth as Rollerskating, Barking

    Bamboo Dart Press 001

    For information:

    Bamboo Dart Press


    Curated and operated by Dennis Callaci and Mark Givens

    PelekinesisShrimperBamboo Dart Press

    For Sian and Hannah

    We have the wacky mode. Why do we have the wacky mode? To break their hearts. —Donald Barthelme

    Dad’s Ears

    Dad’s ears looked kind. Gentle. Small. He didn’t like them, said they emasculated him. Ma said he was right. He has moon-shaped ears, she said, but please don’t ever repeat this. He can’t laugh about it.

    Nothing about him seemed to work the way it should. With such small ears, how did he hear everything we said in private? When me and Josh whispered about running away, he’d say, a day or two later, How about you kids go study the intelligence of pigeons? Pigeons try to fly, but they really can’t. That’s why you see them squashed in the road.

    I wanted to name myself after a movie star, someone mighty and good, someone everyone liked. I thought about it, then asked Josh. As usual, he was nibbling on a carrot, pretending to be a rabbit.

    "I like Meryl Streep," I said.

    That’s just about right.

    Ma kept saying she was gaining weight. Look at these bingo wings, kids, she’d say.

    She wants to be sexy, Josh said. Maybe she’s tired of being a mother.

    She was

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