We’ll meet in Mei: A short story

Illustration about love
Betsy Siegal/File

Mei Huang meets August Claremont in the spring, when the air smells of rotten honeysuckles and mist.  A chill rattles her bones even through her cardigan — a sure, swift wind that jostles her gait and forces her hands into thin denim pockets. Mei’s breath comes in sharp bursts: clouds
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The times they are a-changin’

Hungry and Foolish

This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about transitions. Seeing as school’s over in a couple of weeks, after which I definitely won’t know many students enrolled at UC Berkeley anymore, it’s safe to say May will be the last month I bum around campus. Suffice it to say, also, this one’s going to be a smudge sappy.
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