Jane was leaving the convenience store when her romcom was ruined. What they don’t tell you about meet-cutes is that meeting is never as cute the second time around. In fact, the so-we-meet-again is the most awkward part, and it always happens when you’re not expecting...
The bartender starts work now. He doesn’t drive. He walks. I guide: a vanilla glow peeking at winter’s chalk drawings. He goes in through the front door. I go in through the window. The bartender’s lips are dry. He fills craters with liquid. Warm in the stomach. Water on the moon. Drops sift through space, down our cheeks, like...
I found a letter in my mailbox addressed to someone who doesn’t live here anymore. The same mailbox where someone left used cotton balls, rubber bands, and needles inside. The mailbox that I removed from a crumbling brick wall to sanitize with a bottle of...
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Sunday night might always be heavy. It might always remind us of every night we spent convincing everyone else they were worthy of healing, every instance bringing rise to the nights that we didn’t want to live. Maybe all...
You had a way with wordsYou knew how to make them hurtAnd I fell for you instantlyLike a child The way that you spoke with graceAnd the moonlight on your faceI wish I could show youI’d be worth your while So hold meLike you never meant toOh,...
“Wow. Look at that. I need that. That is so pretty,” Scarlett says, pointing at a billboard in the distance entitled “Sephora Collection: Colourful Eyeshadow.” A half-open circular case of eyeshadow is showcased. Its black border surrounds a clear circular window, encapsulating some sort of...
It is ending like this. THUD. I am walking from the village to The Garden. the grass is green it is our place to play. Hope always brings me food to eat together, oh. But, I am waiting and waiting Here, I am sitting here fading. The wind is blowing the blades And the cattails are...
November 2010. It is Tihar, the Hindu festival of lights. For five days, there are fireworks and rituals and prayers; everything is done for Yama, the god of death. Each day something different is celebrated: first crows, then dogs, cows, oxen, and finally, our brothers. Crows...
I’d leave the light on, keep the door unlocked (but you know where I hide the key, the backdoor’s always open for you and Elijah). there’s a place set -- your glass is upside down, so the dust never settles. your empty chair keeps the room hollow, foggy through the fall. I’m sure if you strolled...
He is warmth trickling through the trees; their leaves casting shadows that cradle her soft-bodied stem. A tulip to the sun, she unfolds against his touch she is no longer grace and beauty. She is textured edges and tangled roots she unravels herself before him...