by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
by Crystal Wesley I feel swindled. Bamboozled. My millennial past has lied. Long lived a hatred inside my “friends” That I thought with ancestry had died. I knew racial issues still exist, But they were few and far between. Yet with the emergence of one figure, New faces on old…
by Nitin Dangwal The curtain hid me from the first light of the day as the dawn broke and lifted the dark veil off the face of the earth. I was lying on the bed, half-asleep since last one hour, wasted from the last night party. I could still feel…
by Cecile Pecoraro My journey to the office each day begins with a drive around Jackson Park. After one block I must veer right to continue up the street, Park Avenue, that holds the 2.27 acre, two-block long park in its grasp. Despite its size, the park is home to…
by David Guba The water was cool as it sloshed between Gilbert’s toes. “Okay, I’m ready”, Maria shouted as she smoothed the hem of her San Dimas High School Drama Club t-shirt over her jeans. A nearby mallard tried to eat a floating grocery bag, what El Pasoans called a…
by Carla McGill The First Memory—The Last Day of Fourth Grade It was the year that President Kennedy was shot. We were at different schools, but they were just a few blocks apart. When my teacher found out what had happened, she sobbed, her head on the desk, while Barbara…