Haruki Murakami has a way of telling a story that makes you feel like he's telling it just to you, and maybe that's why I remember his stories more clearly than those of some other authors, as if he's made me personally responsible somehow for retaining them. The New Yorker has published at least twenty of his short stories over the years, and this one, The Wind Cave, which came out at the end of August 2018, is well paced and touching and can be read online here. More recently The New Yorker published Cream (January 2019) by Murakami, which seems to have some profound meaning within that's deeper than I'm able to reach, or I'm not supposed to reach (or digging in search of profound meaning that may or may not be there is the point?) On the topic he's evasive in the follow-up interview, "Haruki Murakami on Asking the Right Questions". Anyway Cream is an interesting read, not as good as The Wind Cave in my opinion, but good, and can also be read online, here.
The Atlantic recently posted this obituary by Hunter S. Thompson, originally published in Rolling Stone on June 16, 1994. Whenever I read Thompson it’s as if he’s in my head, and it's his distinctive voice I hear—rapid, lilting, nasal. In this piece, his voice comes through clear and loud, as does his loathing of Nixon.