Frogs

People adapt, he remarked dismissively. She was immediately reminded of what she had read about frogs: if dropped in hot water; they jump out immediately. If left in lukewarm water and temperature is raised gradually, however, they will stay in the water until they die. In the end, she reflected, we are all just frogs.

Of Peace

Days passed into weeks, into months. And in that time, she slowly started to forgive, because forgiveness is the start to peace. And perhaps this is why peace makes the most profound and costliest bruise: its acquisition comes only through heart-wrenching sorrow. And she forgave, because the memory doesn’t eat their soul. It devours yours.

Come

Come into my dreams, and into my only freedom. There is a thundering world underneath, and if you come close enough, care enough, you may hear a choked breathy whisper. Come; see the secret about a secret: you will hear the greatest truths and the grimiest lies, and I shall be buried under every distinct sound.

Morning

Shrill alarm. Snooze. Re-snooze. Shards of a dream—a memory—lingers. Muffled screams, tense muscles, bloodshot eyes. Shake it. A moment of truth, realized. Accept it. Turn head, look out the window—the sun is not quite awake. Perhaps it never will wake, at least not for today. Thunderous gray skies promised much needed release.

Sleep, or Lack Thereof.

The cell phone read 3:34 A.M. I do not know why I was awake, but I resigned myself to another night of broken dreams. It had only been two hours since I had finally crawled into bed. I vaguely remember the last night I slept continuously and without interruption.

Will I bend before I break?

Sometimes

Sometimes, her thoughts turned violent. Sometimes, she wanted to dig her nails into her discolored skin and drag her hands until the fat flesh underneath was revealed and the crimson tide ebbed from her body. Sometimes, she wanted to bend her stubby fingers backwards until it met her wrists and dangled limply.

Only sometimes, though.

Coming Home

Her back ached. Looking up at the roving sky, she took off her sweater and welcomed the August breeze, mind wandering. The walk was less than two miles, but the small hill ahead suddenly loomed like a mountain. She thought of the loneliness and work waiting for her at home, and her heart ached as well.

(In)visibility of Nobodyhood

She watched Lai refill ketchup bottles at the food court, expertly shaking, capping, pouring. The empty ones were tossed into the cart. It was a thankless job that goes unnoticed and often unappreciated. She was certainly guilty. And at moments like this, she often believed that sincerity was the cheapest of virtues.

Time, Perhaps?

They looked around the park for the hundredth time, occasionally commenting on the squalling ducks and the oddity of the extraordinary balmy weather in January. They should have seen a movie. It would have saved them from this pretense of a conversation. They should at least look at each other, before they run out of—

Uncertainty

Do you, he asked. She replied noncommittally. Perhaps. Maybe. Another day. We shall see. No promises.

They skirted around the issue again.

Will you, he asked. Perhaps. Maybe. We shall see. Tomorrow’s tomorrow.

Can you, he asked.

Foolish girl. She did not reply.

She sighed. I will not ask again, he said.

Yes, she thought.