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Vintage Typewriter

things my fingers say.

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left swipe.

Left swipe, left swipe. None of these men will do. Literally none. I can't shake that unsettled feeling. The questionnaire asks me what...

to baby S.

It’s early morning as I sneak into his room to watch him sleep, cursing the creaking door while tip-toeing across the threshold. Warm,...

bridges burned.

every day anxiety tore through me. he was the type to pull you in, but never too close. and then drift back away. Is it me? Am I too...

foretelling.

a dream from 2014. before we knew the ending. I just woke up from a dream. We were at a party, a backyard barbecue kind of thing. We were...

watershed.

and suddenly there's the watershed moment when you realize that it is not that what you're doing that is not enough, but what you're...

silence.

these grad school weekends swallow me whole. it’s not the tests or the stress or the unending litany of things to do. it’s the nights...

things i couldn't say.

the emails came and she read them all. he told her he loved her and lamented the love she couldn't return. she read them over and over....

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