Short Story
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☐ don’t cry
The doctor answers, soft and solemn. “Six to ten months.” A familiar wetness crawls down Michael’s cheeks, leaving behind a reddish itch. He reaches up to scratch his face, though it’s hard to tell whether he’s trying to sate this itch or trying to pull his skin apart from the seams. The cheek-wet, slimy sound… Continue reading
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I haven’t been sleeping well lately,
I tell her. “Do you wake up multiple times a night? Anything like that?” “No, not that.” I can’t explain it properly. “My dreams are more vivid than usual, I guess. It’s just very … disorienting. And I wake up exhausted. Nothing’s helped so far.” She nods, then resumes her writing, although I’ve no clue… Continue reading
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THALASSOPHILIA.
Being a middle child has its perks. For one, your older brother gets the brunt of the housework. No one expects anything from you. And you can walk around the beach long after nightfall and have nobody notice. There is nothing like the feeling of cold sand beneath your soles, of the million bright-eyed stars,… Continue reading