“Waiting Room”

My eyes shot open. I must’ve dozed off. My head was pounding. Perhaps it was the bright, fluorescent light in this cold, white, sterile box of a room. I was sitting on a black plastic chair against the wall. The entire wall was lined with the same chairs, with occupants of various ages, creeds, ethnicities.…

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A Jones For You

I remember the night we met in Atlanta. On a cold evening in December, I turned around and there…

Scars

I have melanated skin, which helps me look younger than my age, but I also…

SHORT STORIES

midnight & indigo literary journal for black writers

“Aida”

The Solomon family car is small and green and was bought from a used lot…

ESSAYS

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