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Weekly Contest #343
Vani can’t feel her hands anymore. They belong to the artist now, her scrutiny as petrifying as Medusa’s serpents while henna glides across her palms. Once cool and wet in the pre-monsoon heat, the paste now renders to stone, the foundations still flimsy beneath the hardened top layer. It is an apt metaphor of the marriage she finds herself in. Vani knows she can grow to love her husband. It is a good marriage on paper, an even better union to the cosmos. Like her foremothers, Vani doesn’t believe in slow burn romances. Courtship ought to b...
Weekly Contest #341
When her prospective lover asked to see New York through her eyes, Rina knew she would have regrets. She didn’t know much about the celebrity sightings on Cornelia Street or the egg bagels tucked away on West 107th. Even if she did, he wouldn’t glean much beyond a Yelp review. That wouldn’t do, not when butterflies hatched from their easy banter and furtive glances, so much so that she wanted him to squeeze her heart. But first, she had to bear her soul. And so, Rina left a voice note with instructions for boarding the Queens-bound seven li...
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