The tap is leaking. I know this is not the first words I should say to you. ‘The tap is leaking’ is not a conversation opener anywhere. I wouldn’t say it to a dashing young man at the downtown bar on Osborne
The tap is leaking. I know this is not the first words I should say to you. ‘The tap is leaking’ is not a conversation opener anywhere. I wouldn’t say it to a dashing young man at the downtown bar on Osborne
“If y’all weren’t so difficult, maybe it’ll be easier to get a man.” “Y‘all? Difficult?” I repeat the triggering words as if they can somehow mean something else. They sting differently when they come from a man who shares the same melanin
The day Chiamaka disappeared, her father left the house in precisely three pieces. The first piece left at sunset, when the world, consumed by endless night, became his sworn enemy. A cowardly enemy at that, who only struck among shadows and darkness,
No roads led here, this place like a scar of an old wound. No signs marked its location, no post hung with its name. There was no map of its existence or a print of paper for it to claim. Long ago,
1. The day my sister disappeared, the uncomfortable red hue of the evening sky and the vibrancy of the grass complemented each other. The oddity of the scene cast an uneasy shadow on the house. My mom kept glancing out the chipped
When Helen lands in her birth country, nobody is there to greet her. The deathly heat from the Caribbean sun can’t penetrate the chill she feels of being alone. She looks around at the people that walk past her, their eyes gliding
“Good lord, girl. You swelling!” The girl looked down at her belly, then beyond it down to her shoes, at this she was secretly satisfied. She was not pregnant and in punishment for her tardiness, her body had begun to form pockets
Jocelyn found it hard to focus on the date, although it had been the only thing occupying her mind until she got the text from her daughter. And just like that, she was split in half. Part of her brain trying to
Sydnee glanced at her phone and saw a text from her mother, Marilyn. Sometimes she wished she had never taught her mother how to use her smartphone. She reluctantly unlocked her phone and read the disjointed message. Sydnee. Come get from church.
“Again! And sit up straight! You’re slouching.” Naledi repositioned herself on the stool in front of the piano. Her legs, dangling, were starting to go numb. As best as she could, she straightened her back, placed her fingers in position on the
Shattering glass echoes in my ears, snapping my head up from my phone. Right across the street, the front window of Diaz’s Deli— the neighborhood bodega—lays in glistening shambles on the hot sidewalk. The store alarm blares out catching the attention of
Mama always said the Devil is a lie. I remember thinking that before it happened. But Mama was wrong. The Devil isn’t some jealous white boy with a torture fetish. The Devil, the real Devil, is the truth. And hell? Hell is
We arrived with our gods, walked them into the soil and braided totems into our hair. Distance and time made memory a myth. The wind sang a lullaby that brought to mind lavender and lemons but the words were a mystery. She
“3 A.M./Stare at the ceilin’, murder the feelin’/Spider crawl in the corner—Brown Recluse./So appropriate” I rap, far too passionately. Honestly, there is no excuse for my obsession with Childish Gambino. It ruins everything. No, seriously. Because he’s basically made every reference under
I text Alicia that I’m outside and when she responds, I’m already ringing the doorbell. the text was just a courtesy. whether she’s ready for this interview or not is of no concern to me. I need to see this for myself.
