I'm all about androgyny and self-destruction.
I'm a lose-lose situation.
The Madam Owner of Bulgogi BentoThere is this middle-aged woman in the cafeteria who is my constant tablemate during lunch. I always scope out our table near that Korean-Japanese fusion food stall, Bulgogi Bento, and take care to occupy the farthest seat away from her. The table is always empty but for the two of us, and I feel like we are friends though we never outwardly acknowledge each other’s presence. One can say that in this university watering hole filled with animals variously shaped and sized and sounding, we have our own insulated little mutualistic relationship that is untouched by the barbarism all around us. We both benefit from this unspoken arrangement. I am, on the one hand, spared of having to feel like a loser with no one to sit next to, and can peacefully peruse my readings and answer my homework without any meaningless, obnoxious conversation bothering me. She, on the other hand, benefits by appearing less intimidating than she really is, especially to those who work for her, none otThe Madam Owner of Bulgogi Bento by ilyilaice
Coffee Shop ConfessionIf you’re free ThursdayCoffee Shop Confession by ilyilaice
Meet me at the narrow aisle
Floating above gray
Cityscape, let’s have
A coffee or two, would you
Like to see sunrise
On this pale old face
Would you like to hear what comes
After the stutters
CelebrationThe night begins with bile-blocked throat and half-sandy eyes. Atop sheets that haven't been changed in forever, atop a bed that is sour with lakes of sweat, I roll over and retch. The floor is a million miles away. I seem to be clinging to a puffy white cliff. There is a metallic stench that shoves itself up my nose, my mouth, and with it, a drip-drop sound. There is someone else in my room.Celebration by ilyilaice
I sit up just as an insistent whisper starts. "Who's there?" I say loudly.
"Calm down, Quint. Be still, Emma. We're discovered, Veronica."
The voice mumbles and fumbles, but also somehow shines with a proud, dignified youthfulness. Though my stomach has not quite settled, I swing off the bed to investigate. My hands spread and swim as if through cobwebs. Icy fingertips tap my nape, and I stifle a scream. I turn. There's a girl, young, maybe eleven. Hair a dark and voluminous curtain, eyes rapid-blinking sirens.
"Hello there, friend," she says.
"Hello," I say, my heart slowing because I know