It’s been over twenty years now and with each passing year, the beginning of the story changes. New smells, sounds, and breezes emerge. Others get lost. Voices change and sunny days become cloudy. I had forgotten that one afternoon, when he met me at school and we walked to the zócalo, getting caught in a torrential summer downpour that soaked us to our underwear. My pale blue skirt, transparent and clinging to my thighs. How could I have forgotten that day?
Read Morehormones fade to zero, a single line, to “no.”
Psychologically, “yes” was the lighthouse
and “maybe” was the wreckage.
Read MoreI woke up, expecting Lucas to be at Mass, but instead he was just sitting on the edge of his bed in his formal outfit, his black patent leather shoes untied. He was holding my phone and staring at the ground. “I thought you might want this,” he said, handing the phone to me without moving his eyes…
Read MoreSometimes I wondered if I’d made a mistake leaving behind my friends in the punk scene, the music that gave my life meaning. Amidst the whirl of San Francisco’s flashy bars and art openings and deejayed house parties, I wasn’t sure if there was a place for me. Maybe not anywhere…
Read More“Hi! This is Ed. Sorry I missed you. Please leave a message.” That’s what I finally came up with after eleven tries. Later that night, Bob called again. He was crying. He said Russ had almost died earlier that day and if I wanted to see him one last time I better get back to New York as soon as possible…
Read MoreMy great-grandmother had been dead for years when my soul fled. I searched days for my soul, going back and forth between our old haunts, the places we hid in, cried at, crawled into. When I finally found my soul I asked, can you return?
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