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18/02/2019

She and I will go on dates masquerading as friends and confess the things we save for falling stars. I am enamored with leaving our hometown, and the more I speak to such a life, such possibilities, the more I witness the image I saved for her unravel across from me. I will receive an acceptance letter in the mail. I will leave. I will never see her…

Creative Writing

Rokko-shidare

19/11/2018

They sat on the curb, their knees knocking against one another, their bellies warm from fried food. O licked her fingers. She reached over and poked Q on his cheek. Q shot her a glance as he shoved a few pieces of fried sweet potato and onion into his mouth. He chewed slowly, then, “So, are you ready to go?” O shook her head. “Definitely not, we just got here.”…

Creative Writing

Little Birds

02/02/2018

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered, laying the bird down on the table. It slid out of his palms, its head bending backwards so the nape of its neck nearly touched the mantle beneath. The wings were fashioned like a cocoon, tucking the body away, the white feathers neither ruffled nor out of place as Wynn let it roll onto the counter. Audrey leaned forward over her homework and touched…

Creative Writing

So This is How We Leave Things?

21/11/2017

And here I am. I’ve created something entirely fictional in my head, writhed the words and tales until the person who’s sitting in front of me has become the distorted image of something left behind. He doesn’t speak, just gestures towards me, his hand signals mixed and distorted in their delivery. I nod though I do not understand. The tips of his fingers begin flaking, breaking into pixelated…