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Weekly Contest #201
Emmy forgets her purse, of all things. The performance that had happened that evening had been so long ago. Only the sound of reverb, of her own voice in her in-ear, remains. She cannot sleep. She closes her eyes and sees neon lights in hues of pink and white flash across her eyelids. She rolls over. “Minju,” Emmy shakes Minju awake, “Let’s go.” “Hmm,” mumbles Minju, and she pulls Emmy in close, wrapping Emmy in sticky arms and legs, “I’m tired.” “I left my purse.” “Your purse?” “In the green room.” “Emmy,” Minju says, and sighs, and t...
Weekly Contest #60
“Your English is great,” I told her as I asked for a to-go cup. I was doing a three month exchange program, studying the faut lines in Japan. She was a barista at a cafe. I was alone. The other students in my program had gone home already. “Your English is alright,” she smirked. She had been raised in Hong Kong. Saki had a playful smile, one that made her eyes smile, too, like crescent moons. She had a round face and a button nose, and was skinny, but toned. Saki and I did all sorts of things when we were together — we went to shrin...
The year is 2040 and San Francisco is trapped beneath a dome from the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate. Dahlia and I are spread out on a picnic blanket, drinking coffee at a park. We have a wide view of the city. “How’s work?” I ask. I had to make a reservation to get through the checkpoint at the Golden Gate. This one I had to schedule three months in advance. Inside the clear glass, these people have found a way to survive. San Francisco is more alive than it’s ever been. When I first visited Dahlia at the dome, a month after s...
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