Stories
The Digital Familiar
Sylvie’s world existed in muted blues and greys, mirroring the screen she clutched like a lifeline. She was fourteen, lonely and keenly aware of the space around her that no one chose to fill. Her bedroom, a sanctuary of dust motes and charging cables, was where her true self resided, hidden from the echoing halls of her high school. She didn’t just feel unseen; she felt fundamentally misunderstood, as if the entire social dynamic of the school was a complex language she simply wasn’t programmed to speak. She was a silent observer, always on the periphery, watching over the life she craved, a ghost moving through hallways thick with connections between everyone else.
Running Against the Shadow
The studio lights burned bright, but the air felt heavy, thick with the weight of a story she was tired of telling. The anchor, a woman known for her steady composure, sat rigid behind the desk, jaw clenched so tightly her words trembled at the edges. When the red “ON AIR” light blinked to life, her voice carried a controlled fury, low at first, but sharp like a blade drawn over stone. “Good evening,” she began, though nothing about her tone felt like evening warmth. “Tonight, Kenya has lost yet another woman, another daughter, another champion, to the hands of the man she once called husband.”
The Pantry
Emily carefully set the last jar on the shelf, watching the collagen-thick bone broth quiver in the pantry’s dim light. She ran her fingers along each neatly labeled jar; bone broth in beef and chicken, green beans and red tomatoes like Christmas decorations. Some of the women in the Canning Club used jars they traded or bought at the ReUse Center, but that meant they weren’t uniform. The uniformity was key. It allowed her to plan, form straight lines on all her shelves, know what she had without worrying whether she was missing a jar that might be stashed behind the others.