short story

I wanted to be in the thick of things again. I wanted to be able to go behind the information desk and talk to Leilah. I wanted her to ask me about Da Vinchi and Van Go and the other great men of our art tradition. She was just a college intern with so much to learn. 

Adrian had never gone on a date before, not for lack of trying, though. But tonight, that was going to change for Adrian.

I feel like doing something that isn’t allowed. I fool, and I am fooled.

Robbery had never come to Amani’s mind when she thought back to her high school graduation speech she’d given almost two years ago. She surely hadn’t considered becoming a felon when she had talked about her dreams for a future of endless possibilities.

"I want her to text me. I want her to call me; I just want to know she’s thinking of me."

This blank book had nothing to do with language: It went beyond that. It was the emptiness of this book that would make space for the author to say exactly what she wanted to say, everything she could ever want to say, forever. 

When you disappear, none of us notice until you’re gone. Turning the corner, we make a left and descend the stairs to the parking lot. It’s littered with vehicles, waste and gum on the concrete. Someone is screaming, I don’t know who. Maybe we’re all screaming all at once. 

Sometimes I wonder if it is, indeed, bad to want some of the things I want, but then I realize I don’t know what “bad” even means. Can something be bad if it feels so right? More than that, can it be bad if it doesn’t hurt anyone? 

The idea of a daddy long legs, whether it’s a hardworking father spider going to work, a fellow female, or a poor creature that is scared of me, becomes less of a threat.

We tell stories that never do the trick. The events of my day are articulable, but the meaning of a day is always greater than its constituent moments.