Photography by Leeta Harding
We’ll start again on that same morning, after the part where I’d forgotten my lines and missed my cues and lost all the confidence you had built up in me all semester long.
The younger sister was sure that she stood inside of the estate’s garden: yellow flowers grew along the gravel path, hedges appeared well-trimmed, and the birds—although their chirps grew less frequent as she walked—flitted from branch to branch above.
A high school ex-boyfriend once told me I have the ribcage of a hummingbird and it was the most beautiful gift, like a jewel he’d slipped it into my pocket. He had no idea what he’d done, but I still take the jewel out sometimes, inspect it under different impressions of light: Lime-white in a Texaco bathroom.
Little Enrique’s Grand Tuesday Morning
After his eighteen-hour graveyard shift at Ho-Ho’s Do-Dos Y Churros, Donut Man walks down Gobbet Street to visit CareLess KidCare, the 24-hour faith-indentured depository founded by Our Lady of Perpetual Wrath for parents who care less. Donut Man pats the children’s heads as they flop about his shins like drunk fish. He sets down his donut sack, filled with reject Ho-Ho’s do-dos and rests himself on the floor, surrounded by wriggling children.
Natural History Illustration
Just now, while you’re walking through the park, if you look up at the right-hand corner of the third floor of the hospital, you’ll see her, Bryony. You know she’s seen you; she has keen eyes and a sense for the coming and going of things. Back in her early twenties, when she was studying natural history illustration (with a focus on insects), that sense was invaluable.