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Weekly Contest #125
tw for implied domestic abuse All the clocks stop but not a single one melts. No, what happens to time is more reminiscent of freezing than of any kind of thaw, the hours congealing into something to wade through, and the tide of minutes suspended – how embarrassing for it – like a cresting wave. But all that’s later: for now, there’s only me and Trouble. Trouble, if I may introduce her, is three years older than me and claims that I was her first wish, memory, and word. The last one is a lie – her first word was ‘dad’, and she was one ye...
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