The Criminals I’ve Met
There are two types of people who rub me the wrong way: people who can’t take a hint, and people who talk to hear their own voice. Thomas Antonio Inglewood was both.
Word of the Year
Those words came to me in what felt like divine inspiration.
Watching Airplanes Alone
I have never felt like the grief I have is deserved.
I Miss Wealthy Theatre
“An hour and forty-two minutes!” I would think, fist-pumping at the director’s restraint.
Nice to Meet You, I’m Parker
The new people I met starting junior year never knew me as Purun but as Parker.
Homesick
When you visit a city you once called home, a part of you settles even as another part slides out of place.
A Trip Down the Memory Expressway
I imagine telling my story to someone; spin a future where there wasn’t a pandemic anymore, and I wasn’t working at a warehouse anymore, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
A Museum of Lost Things
If fashion trends exist on the Island of Lost Toys, perhaps they’re all wearing the mismatched earrings and socks our past selves misplaced.
On Being Young and Lonely
Her expression tightened as she said, “At least you had a couple friends in the city.”
Table for One
She mouths the numbers to herself when she calculates the tip.
