Magic in the Ordinary

From my perch on Momma’s bed, I can see the outside bush beginning to blossom. The small, pink buds collect raindrops, and I feel sorry for it almost. It will undoubtedly freeze once more before Spring truly greets us. All is still in the house, and I am reminded of those slow, still, sleepy mornings …

The Waiting Game

Winter painted the sky. Gray, overcast, and quiet—she breathed in and out, sending icy winds into the chapped faces of streetwalkers. And there I was without a coat, walking down Demumbreum. Chin tucked into my chest, I waited for the crosswalk light to turn green. My Sophomore year of college, my anthropology professor alerted me …