The parking lot was empty when I arrived, its single light flickering in the inky darkness. Windshield fogging, I wipe it clean with the cuff of my hoodie, and kept driving to row 10. The instructions were explicit, and I followed them. Desperate, I ignored everyone’s warnings and now, here I am, in the middle of a deserted parking lot in the dead of night, freezing while I wait. Headlights blind me as they drive up. Windows down, breath ballooning…
I was eighteen when I learned the truth, and not because anyone had the courage to tell me. No, instead I stumbled upon the truth in the middle of aisle seven at Publix. While choosing between cola or lemonade, I ran into her. I stood in shock, drink bottles crashing to the ground, their sickly sweet syrup spreading everywhere as the plastic shattered. She never blinked, and the smile plastered on her face seemed genuine. All I could do was…
Tommy sat rigid on the counter and stared at the drop of blood seeping from the wound on his leg until Meg wiped it clean and applied a flesh-colored bandage that clashed with his dark skin. Instead of climbing down and scampering off to play, Tommy remained on the counter, scrutinizing his hands. He glanced at Meg and waited while she discarded the bandaid wrapper. Friends stood in the doorway, keeping a wary eye on him. “You’re all set,” she…
I am a collector of words. Big or small, round or flat, I hoard them all. I tuck them in books and pockets. I store them in notebooks and drawers. Occasionally, I jot them on my skin in hopes of never forgetting how they sounded when spoken, the way they danced and twirled across my tongue. Each word speaks to me, filling me with wonder while sparking my imagination. I close my eyes and glimpse them through the darkness. I…