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Weekly Contest #46
I I miss the hunger. Hunger focuses your thoughts the way a lens focuses light. It gives you a raw clarity that you can’t find anywhere else. Staring at the empty page, the blinking cursor and the dwindling battery of my laptop, I miss it more than ever. I can’t find the words anymore, let alone choose the right ones. Does the wind whip through the trees, biting and cold, or does it thrash like something half-drowned? Does the water wash calmly over the shore, or does it lap like a dog’s tongue? This is a side effect of recovery. I can’t...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #44 ⭐️
Nannette pinches out the candle next to the door. “God be with you, Ari.” The words come out of her mouth like juice squeezed from the rind of a lemon: sour and strained. And then she’s gone. I don’t have time even to croak a “Goodbye.” She slams the door, leaving rattling hinges and dying spires of smoke behind her. This is the way she always leaves. Her lips form the words “God be with you” habitually. This time, though, feels different. Final. Something about the palpable bitterness of her voice, or the stiffness of her narrow shoulders...
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