Stalling by Andrew Roe art by Robinson Accola My son, six, is practicing dying. It's something he's started doing at bedtime, part of the nightly wind-down routine, when I read him books and he stalls because he doesn't want to go to sleep yet. So he pretends he's dying. Lately I've been telling him about my father, who died two months before he was born. And along with telling him about my father, his grandfather, there have been the usual tricky questions about death: What happens to our bodies when we die? Where do we go? Do we know we're dead? Is it just like sleeping? "Watch," he instructs me, gently lying himself down in his bed and flattening his arms against his sides, corpselike. "No, wait—now. Watch me now. See if you can see me breathing." He holds his breath for as long as he can, about fifteen seconds, though it seems longer, his chest remaining flat and still, and he looks dead, enough so that it makes me hold my breath. Then his breathing returns in one big exhale and he coughs and it's over and he's asking more questions, stalling: "What was I like when I was a baby?" "What were you like when you were a baby, Daddy?" "What was Mommy like when she was a baby?" "What was Grandpa Ron like?" I answer the questions. The last one is hard, though, even after all these years. I tell my son that his grandfather loved him very much, that he liked tennis, that he was funny and liked to joke, and that we're all very sad he's not here. "We're sad?" my son asks. "Yeah, we're sad," I tell him. "But it's okay to be sad. We just miss him." He rolls over on his side, like he might finally be ready to sleep. "I miss him too," he says. He breathes and closes his eyes. I hold my breath again. He doesn't move. All content in SmokeLong Quarterly copyright 2003-2010 by its authors.
	Andrew Roe lives in Oceanside, California. His fiction has appeared in One Story, Tin House, Glimmer Train, The Cincinnati Review, Slice and elsewhere. Predictably, he has a blog: http://andrewroe.blogspot.com/. Read the interview. Robinson Accola creates artwork for SmokeLong Quarterly as needed.
	Issue Twenty-Seven (December 20, 2009): Four Disconnected Truths About My Father by James Tadd Adcox «» I Am Born by Grant Bailie «» Americano Mens by Martin Cloutier «» On Becoming a Bird by Emily Darrell «» Vacation by Peter DeMarco «» Imagines He's a Bear by Ryan Dilbert «» Heavenward by S. H. Gall «» Bowling for Dollars by Amie Hartman «» When the Cicadas Come by Tara Laskowski «» Love and Destruction in a '67 El Dorado by David Lindsay «» To the Women in Line at the Walgreens Pharmacy by Sean Lovelace «» Greenback Fly by Dennis Mahagin «» Arecibo by Andrew McIntosh «» My Friend by Gary Moshimer «» Elstor by Jefferson Navicky «» Winter by Alec Niedenthal «» Fork by Glen Pourciau «» Stalling by Andrew Roe «» The Runner by Curtis Smith «» Unicorns by Scott Stealey «» Orbit by Brandi Wells «» Interviews: Grant Bailie «» Martin Cloutier «» Emily Darrell «» Peter DeMarco «» Ryan Dilbert «» S. H. Gall «» Amie Hartman «» Tara Laskowski «» Sean Lovelace «» Dennis Mahagin «» Andrew McIntosh «» Gary Moshimer «» Jefferson Navicky «» Alec Niedenthal «» Glen Pourciau «» Andrew Roe «» Curtis Smith «» Scott Stealey «» Brandi Wells «» Cover Art "View From the Lincoln Bedroom" by Marty D. Ison