It was her teacher’s ill-conceived attempt to inspire feelings of national pride among a classroom of sleepy fourth graders. Forget bringing words to the page—she could still hear the…
Squatting by the perennials in front of him, Miya fiddled with the dusty lockbox. It’d been hidden in the false bottom of a large planter bed some paranoid fuck…
She thought it seemed much like blood without the viscosity and colour, then vaguely wondered if there was something wrong with her to enjoy inflicting violence on a fruit…or…