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Exponential Decay

By Maggie Kennedy “The orange tastes like a refrigerator,” my son says,spitting out his bite and pretending to gag,and though I have never tasted a refrigeratorI know what he means. The orange tastes like the plastic it was wrapped in.And though I have never eaten plastic,the conjured smell fills my…

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My Prison

By Daisy Paltrow I sit on the oversized chair of execution that I’ve become accustomed to. Each day I wait in wonder for the moment it will all be over. My hands clasp the edge of the arms that hold the imprint of my shape; At once, the iron rings…

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