A Taste of Something New
Ari arrived at my door with a backpack full of wine and the jitters. My heart had been broken all but three weeks prior, giving me a devil-may-care attitude that suited my newly dyed hair. It was fuchsia, and I think he liked this wild side of me.
before the air lost its sweetness
across my yard crept a honeysuckle vine, impossibly tangled with untold mysteries in its depths. below its candied blooms I would sprawl,
A Letter to Myself
Dear younger Sarah, You do not realize it yet, but you are one of the strongest women I know. I can feel us both cringing at the egomania of writing such a sentence. But you see, you’ve spent years believing that your struggles made you weak. That if you were only stronger, you would have an easier time. You spent so long wishing you could feel like other women that you never stopped to claim your own unique womanhood. Until now.
running down a gravel road
running down a gravel road crunch crunch crunch beneath my bumbling feet open sky and open fields closing in around me
Somewhere, or perhaps sometime, in some distant land or alternate plane, there exists a world that is not round. Not round at all, but indeed very flat and very limited. Its inhabitants are accustomed to its shape. In fact, they have built their lives in straight lines, clean angles, sharp corners; hardly ever a man-made circle in sight. To them, time marches on in one linear path they all must follow. One is born, one lives, and one dies. That is the natural order of things.
Little was known about the tenant of apartment 3B at 1621 Winamac Drive, but one word came to the mind of every neighbor she passed: strange.