FLASH
I’m dancing with my best friend’s husband, under the influence of his jaws and thighs.
You’re joking, I say, interrupting the steady bumping of the doctor’s bushy white mustache.
A man with a fistful of showbags said, “That cow sounds like a person trying to sound like a cow.”
The new octopus at the children’s aquarium was named Athena, and as we waited for her to emerge, I thought of the almost-too-faint second line on the pregnancy test three days before.
Mama sped along the highway, unbothered by bits of gravel that flew up from the front tires and struck the windshield of the sedan.
I know you shouldn’t keep wild animals as pets, but I’ve had the same spider in my bathroom sink for over two weeks.
The day does not conclude with the gentle exhale of the earth, but with Mother Superior flipping the hourglass over, again.
Allanson looked out of the viewport, at the ragtag flotilla of ships trailing behind, some of them slow to catch up. It was to be expected with the little time that they’d had to cobble the fleet together.
None speak of how the streets collide in coarse seams like scars, the fresh cobbles unable to level with the ones shaken from their mortar by uncountable seasons.
At the end of the meeting, the villagers agreed to contribute shillings and pounds to sponsor Elochi to a university in America.
He used to hold my hand on Commonwealth. I wonder sometimes if he ever still thinks about my mouth.
It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.
I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.
