The Librarian in Lopsided Handcuffs
Samuel was already standing in the dusty break room, leaning against the counter in his usual casual fashion. Good morning, Adelaide, he said to me, over his paper cup full of steaming, watery coffee. His dark eyes glinted with amusement, watching my every move. Watched as I crossed the tiny space, barely dodging the jagged edge of the long square table set in the center of the room. Watched me yank my long floral skirt away from the splinters.
- V+ Fiction Award Winner
LibelluleV+ Fiction Award Winner
You’ve always been a dancer. You started when you were three. It was your mother’s idea. She’d always wanted to dance when she was little, but her asshole of a father never let her. Realize she’s been living vicariously through you this whole time, that she still tries to, but you’re too different now. She doesn’t recognize you. It’s a weird feeling.
Girls Rule, Boys Drool
“When I grow up, I’m gonna marry Justin Bieber!” “No fair! I want Justin!” “You already have Zayn!” I sat quietly on the soccer field as my friends talked over one another. This was a daily occurrence. We’d get our lunches, find the shady spot under the big tree, and talk about boys until lunchtime was up. I’d rather practice my jump-roping, but I guess in fourth grade you don’t jump rope anymore. Instead, you talk about boys.