I Wish You The Best
He’s practically glowing, all the way up to the top of his balding head.
Matching Capybara Shirts
He asked to be dropped off at the Harley dealership on Wednesday and we didn’t see him again until the next morning.
The Ministry of Utmost Happiness
In many ways, even just this year, the yolk feels like it is running.
I Was Wrong About Birthdays
But something changed for me when my sister and I found a string of polka-dot bunting in a HEMA in France a little over a year ago.
The Invitation
Why twenty-eight? Because that is before twenty-nine, which is before thirty, which is when your life is over.
If you love a boy…
But I knew he was too tired to talk, and so I began putting my head on his shoulder and just… watching.
What would you write if no one you loved was going to read it?
When I was inevitably rejected from the six MFA programs I applied to, my understanding of myself as a writer crumbled into a number of pieces that were far too small to pick up for a while.
I grump
But I frown and sigh all the way to the car, down the highway, and into the parking lot.
IOWA
Here is a place the narrator longs for, a place whose very smallness and peacefulness my friends have always laughed at.
A Long Memory
I remember not liking it—the plum—very much.
300 Square Feet
What was sweet about the past two years?
The Twelve Tribes of Israel (The End Credits)
Asher: Unproblematic king.
Panem et Circuses
Is there a show that starts with twenty-four-plus contestants that are whittled down to half by the end of the first night?
Ode to Spring
The winter was long. It was bitter this year. Wasn’t it?
We’re Moving (Or: About Hope)
We wandered our neighborhood, spending nothing to play pickleball on the tennis courts north of us and to watch the sunset from the hill to the south.
How to Code (For Writing Majors)
His work looks like typing at his desk for hours, glancing between three different screens, and not speaking to anyone. It felt oddly familiar.
The Great British Part of the Great British Bake Off
Sue Perkins suddenly whisks the camera away to Oxfordshire to ask a scholar about what he calls “sexy bread:” cake.
On Graduating in the Middle of the Year
But to me, endings have always been quiet.
The Chatbox
“Chat, is this even real?”
The Foundations of the Thresholds
I can hear no seraphim.
Little Ghost
I am unsure of whether we remembered to lock the front door.
I Was a Blonde…
I was blonder than I had ever been for my wedding, which—admittedly—was a bit of an accident.
To DIY a Day
How does one make her sister feel loved when their parents have set the bar so high?
