What now?

"Will you cry when I leave?" Her bug-eyes scared me, and when she spoke I was reminded of her home, somewhere across the ocean from mine. I laughed, trying to avoid the subject. "I don't need to! You'll know I'm sad." She frowned, disapproving. I saw a few integrals and limits scattered over the page …

Continue reading What now?

After school

I’m thinking of fingers. I’m thinking of my mother’s fingers (in particular) because she’s the only person in my life who ever expressed an interest in how fingers should look; the ideal set of fingers. I remember her telling me, once, many years ago, that she had artist’s fingers. She was so proud, (almost relieved) …

Continue reading After school