
COUPLED PENDULA by Krista Jahnke
She hits the button to go live and slowly eats something. It could be anything: an apple, a banana, a small granola bar. Comments fly in, encouraging her.
She hits the button to go live and slowly eats something. It could be anything: an apple, a banana, a small granola bar. Comments fly in, encouraging her.
It’d been just one of the gummies, one of the 5mg guys that looked like peaches but for some reason tasted like grapes.
They ask her if she knows what day it is. They try to make her guess how long she drifted for. She won’t. Four days. That’s what they tell her.
When anger threatens to disturb my indifference towards the customers, I breathe deep, I take smoke breaks to cool my nerves in the gnashing waves.
Since I met MOLI she has of course been my vital thing.
We bought Barbies for the clothes, but sooner or later they all ended up naked.
“I can feel your heart beating.” He said it like he was telling her something about herself that she didn’t know already.
How sad is to witness the deflection of someone from your own ethnicity, who breathes the same air, eats the same dishes, but is enemy to your land’s ethos?
The sun outside is the color of false hope. He gets to the booth and starts to think handsome thoughts.
His mom made a quiet bleating sound under her breath. Fear bolted through him, but now he was seven and so he stood his ground.