Decision Vanessa Lam “I didn’t agree to this,” Olivia says. “Um, well, you do have other options. But – come on, look.” Olivia looks and sees Lily wearing her oops-but-uh-please smile. She also has her hands clasped together just under her chin, which has the effect of squishing the cat, or maybe a kitten, who is now squirming a little behind her curtain of brown hair. It jumps down and pads over to curl up in a bag, thankfully empty, and peers up with wide eyes. “I have a choice,” Olivia reminds herself, and it’s a little grounding. She lets out an exhale. “I have a choice,” she repeats, and the world feels a little steadier. She looks at the cat again, takes in the way it looks, tries to reasonably calculate how much it would cost to take care of one. She knows there’s a general store a few blocks away that sells cat food at a decently low cost, because for some reason it’s sold next to the candy. Olivia doesn’t want to take in a cat if it will go hungry with her. It’ll feel like a failure, which has never failed to drive her to tears. There are some cardboard boxes that can probably be made to serve as a makeshift playground, and maybe some other things she can scourge up. Could she – no, she reminds herself, could they do it? Olivia crouches down, looks a little harder. Their place doesn’t forbid pets, and their neighbors, who come over every weekend for tea, have no allergies beyond their sneezing reaction to pollen. “Hey,” Lily says, clasping their hands together and drawing small circles with her thumbs. “I’m ok with it if you decide no.” She looks earnest, a little apologetic. “No,” Olivia says, and she’s surprised at the amount of conviction that comes with it. “The cat can stay.” Lily beams, and Olivia offers a tentative one back. The cat has their head raised a little out of the bag, and she wonders if the memory will stay, will remain something hopeful and warm. A little family.
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Pour Sonia Tan And the rain never seems to stop
The grey, cloudy sky has never felt as serene Someone is walking down the pier, umbrella in hand Just a blurred speck of blue and red under this gentle rain A nameless figure, barely visible through the fog Rain hits the water in slow, ever-expanding ripples Cars roaring down the water-drenched roads, the sound of waves Slapping the shore, over and over again And for this moment, the world is so quiet, so beautifully present. Bet. Grace Ye Your upper hand beats their lower hands to roll the die
Crooked men lounge on red playing cards Their cancerous smoke hushes out the children Big hands rolls six sick sixes on the dice I hope I’ve got some sisters who out last me They gonna tell our story Little men in big suits were on the telly Static white n’ black threads his white lies so clearly Problematic white noise hushs our issues Everything’s still more than just scenes on T.V. Stills hang on a black screened shutdowned T.V. Do You Think So Too? Irene Hao He sits in the corner of my class, not my first or my last . It's one of those boring middle-of-the-day classes everyone dozes off to.
He sits in the corner, wiggling his eyebrows at the girl in the table next to him. He's always partners with her. They're good friends. I think. He has on a sky blue hoodie, littered with cliche inspirational quotes he’d scribbled on. My favorites are "Where the shadows crawl, light is always close by" and "Nothing is perfect. I am nobody. Therefore, I am perfect." He always takes the hoodie off afterwards and stuffs it in his locker. I know because I've seen him do it. Every day. When I first heard his voice, frankly, I thought he was a she. He gave off a cool vibe, a dramatic obnoxious drag queen diva. And I wasn't wrong. First time I sucked it all in and approached him, he blew into my ear, laughed, and walked off. Second time, he approached me, and said he liked scaring me. I don't understand it. But the way he babbles, the way his smile just gets me smiling with him, I understand that part of him. The way he looks like he's always having fun, even during his science presentation, I like it. He's always smiling. I don't know if he really does, but I like to think so. Off Center Vanessa Lam It is an indistinguishable day: gray, cloudy sky and hours that feel too long. There is someone with a stroller, a child kicking their legs, asking for food. The river sloshes, the boats bob slowly, all the discarded trash bumps up against the wall then recedes. Something upsetting has happened, left you in shaky tears, spilling out water, an inkwell tipped. You want to run, sprint to the best of your ability far, far away. You want to make it to that glowing symbol, that reads PIER and a number, that attracts boats but not people. You look down, take two steps at a time, trying to make it a game, two steps in one rectangular block, and suddenly you’re there. It is cold, and your face and arms have turned red.
But now you have an accomplishment, something to counter the failure that had tipped the scales, sent liquid flying. It’ll be okay, you remind yourself. It’ll be okay. Feminist af Grace Ye She’s feeling
like stirring the ceiling We’re gonna clear up this anxiety Tell me, when our world’s falling Will she be your gravity? Feeling as right as raindrops Riding on top of this mentality Breaking the glass ceiling with her bomb stiletto class. Art of Growing Vanessa Lam “…So I moved my two dark, three-dimensional circles out of the dark, and beheld the terrifying sight of-”
Amber smiles, the corners of her lips quirking up, before she hides it with a long sip of soda. Every time James tells that particular story, he embellishes it a little more. Never to the point of being false, because James rather rigidly sticks to his belief that honesty is the best policy, but substituting in longer ways to say things. The number of ways he’s found to say that his eyes opened is frankly astonishing at this point. But the child he’s talking to and gesticulating in front of begins to stop crying. She’s looking up at him and breaking out into weak giggles every now and then, and Amber feels a rush of fondness before turning her attention back to the other children. They’re loudly gesturing, and they’ve made sure to include everyone, the way she and James have been encouraging them to do. But it seems that they were nearly done planning, as the mass of students breaks up and attends to their plants. Jake, Edward, and Maria are trying to grow a sunflower, and it’s already starting poking up from the dirt. Abigail and George are tending to marigolds. The others had beamed up at her and said it was a secret, but she had been promised that they were flowers and not trees. “So hey, everything’s okay. My teacher told me something similar when I broke a cup. We can get a new pot of soil, if you’d like, but this isn’t something that’s being graded, and we’re not upset. The most important thing is that you’re alright. Do you feel better?” The girl looks a little calmer now, and less distraught. She nods. “Alright then, wanna remind me what Ms. Amber taught us?” James asks warmly, and the girl stands up straight, with confidence, and leads him through the steps. |
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