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(6/13) I’ve gone weeks without them. It is fine but it is lonely here— grasping the groceries like dough in my hands and wondering when the words will speak to me again. Fluidity
is
somewhere else.
I’m scraping the rocks at every corner and
(7/7) I’m walking between the shadows of the railroad but I was never good at keeping my balance.
(7/18) My heart is somewhere between wrinkled and balled up,
like a sweater in bed.
(7/21) Our cat passed away yesterday
so I’m standing in the middle of a busy road watching the swerves of every car
and the banging of heels on concrete sounds like 5 units of insulin
Twice a day
Every day
For the rest of your life.
— ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
22 | Chicago
ig: l1vyzzzz & lntlmate
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The Spring
The sun was high when Lance pulled off the road and into the dusty lot of the service station. The sign back at the hairpin--the first sign in a long time--said they just rolled into Hatter’s Creek, Population 63. It was small enough it didn’t appear on the handmap in Shelby’s lap, yet here it stood, the first backwater township on the fringes of the National Park. The plan was to gas up, restock the snack bag, and press on into the wilderness.
By Zack Graham6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This feels so powerful to read. A chaos of emotion pinned tenuously to a linear life that doesn't quite match the experience.