Kill the part of you that believes it can’t survive without someone else. Start with the hands. The feeble way they shake holding your morning …
Kissing Boys That Taste Like Ink and Spitting Fire in Motel Sinks by Lindsey Hobart
The first boy I kiss doesn’t write. He doesn’t understand why my bedroom walls tell stories that are sixteen years too long. He does not …
Ashes by Emily Ward
Charles wasn’t meant to take the files on Mrs. Conway’s insurance claim out of the office, but he did it anyway. He tucked them into …