by Hallie Johnston
Early in his. Late in mine.
“How do you feel about kids?” he asks via text a week after meeting on a dating app, three days after meeting once in person where we both pretended the pizza was good. I asked him questions about his job, family/friends, growing up in Alabama, likes/dislikes, and he asked me my own questions and little else. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Molly Anne Blumhoefer
I thought about not going, but I knew I had to show my face, to pretend. It was workplace politics. I sat with more than sixty people in concentric rings around a large conference table for a holiday celebration. We ate potluck foods from plastic plates on our laps: deviled eggs, green chile stew, potatoes, vegetables, salads, beans, tamales, cookies and pies. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by J.M.C. Kane
My aunt Dorothy had Alzheimer’s. My mother Phyllis took charge of her care. This was not discussed. It was simply what happened. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Khadijah Abdul Haqq
The first day of the conference, I tell myself that I must give people a chance based on their personalities and not where the sun sat in the sky the day they were born. I remind myself that not everyone born in January shares my unequivocal thirst for solitude or management. And that I am a Muslim and referring to zodiac signs is against my religion. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
by Anna Scarpone
There’s a room alive with the heat of bodies, and a booming bass its ever-pulsing heart. Limbs press against limbs, flushed skin is illuminated only by the opening and closing of the bathroom door. Now and then, some shrieking, drunken laugh rings out over the crowd like a descant. In this darkness, I’m no more than a body. No sun casts a shadow on my face, revealing its familiar imperfections. Hidden is the bump on my nose, the freckle on my upper lip. The telltale inflections in my voice become another part of that universal chorus, the beat blasting from the DJ stand. In this ocean of bodies, we are all grasping desperately for anything, anyone to ground us. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 