I collect words. I hoard them, greedy, in notebook margins, along the edges of drawings, on the backs of used envelopes. I collect words in marker along my arms when I have nowhere else to put them, I repeat them…
Read MoreI am not a Lady. If it weren’t for the rest of the world, I never would have thought about my gender at all. I don’t mind. I like to try on labels for myself. I collect them like stamps—INFJ,…
Read MoreI had a dream. I had a dream I was standing still, immobile in my body and in my life. I picked apart a cup of frozen custard in an outdoor bar, overlooking a park of rolling hills where some…
Read MoreOn the day of her birth, Brandy McCoy had been named by her father, and given the title of Chosen One by her dead mother. According to her, a woman who had been giving prophecies her whole life and surely…
Read MoreThere was a girl who could make it rain. Outside, inside. We knew she was different on the day of her birth, when the maternity floor of the hospital flooded. Clouds formed on the ceiling and rained down on hospital…
Read MoreThere’s a girl in my Lit class and I’m pretty sure she can read my mind. It took a few weeks for me to notice—she’s a quiet-type, doesn’t participate much, doesn’t talk to her neighbors. Her name is Glade, Glade……
Read MoreEvery year the house on the hill has a garage sale. It’s a big, peaked house, painted white by kids hired from the local college every couple years, its shutters either blue or red or yellow, depending on the whim…
Read More