We sat snug by the table with the hovering leg, Placed a hand to milky carbon copies, Grasping each other’s breath with curved, inky incisions,
“You have a lot of futterneid,” my mom said to me one day. A German word which literally translates to “food jealousy.” It’s true, I’ll
The smoke detector incessantly beeps to the patterns of my REM cycle—sporadic and offbeat. For the first few nights my nerves were frayed from the
It was a Sunday evening when I checked my Twitter feed and was met with a flood of Oprah images accompanied by the phrase “were
“Yellow house!” It was a tradition in my mother’s white Infinity every morning for my brother and me to yell the color of one of
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