It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a middle-aged woman not in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of one more floral teacup.
Fine bone china.
Made in England.

It wasn’t like the other days, the birthdays, the anniversaries, the days that somehow, eventually, I found passing me by, unnoticed. Nowruz lingers, every year, marked by guilt, shame, a desperate need to justify myself. This year, I'm going to change that. This year, it will live up to its name: new beginnings...

He’s a big guy. He has big teeth and a big winning smile. He is all charisma. His voice is loud and rich and sonorous. The world holds space just for him. Pockets of air already in his shape: this is the sense of it. He says, hey dude...

When she’d seen that cowering boy weeks after holding the lizard in one hand, whole tail and all, she thought maybe the town was right. Maybe it wasn’t right for a little girl to like fightin’ so much. Maybe she was born under a red moon and would see hellfire. And maybe she liked it better that way...

His haunting laugh, the brush of a hand,
away from it all she ran

She couldn’t remember if it was past,
or through his wretched hold that she ran...