Misfits

I really should pluck my brows, I said. You really should make us both coffee, he said. Hurry up and take the photo. I pull a face. But it is lost, with half my face. I smile again, and I am reminded of some of the smaller details that I love about him. His laughter … More Misfits

# 129

Wind in my neck, like a limp doll that has lost it’s comeliness. Straighten my skirt, and dust off the grubby prints left by the men that knew I had no money. No money for the inhale. Even less for the exhale. Comb my lashes, even on the one half open eye, and redo the … More # 129

Perfectly Faceless

I remember sitting on a bench in the London Underground, sipping on a Starbucks coffee, and watching the people pass me by, almost in slow motion. The fine details in their clothes, their hands, their body language, the lack of eye contact, and the energy that trailed behind them like a rainbow of tell-tale signs. … More Perfectly Faceless