The Biggest Feast
This story contains themes or mentions of suicide or self harm. When I first met Eleni, we were at a dinner party in Chicago, inside a regal-looking gala space, celebrating the opening of the new…
Scorched Rice
“It’s burnt.” Of course it is. “It’s because you wait too long”, a reply laced with the tone that only a parent could have toward their child. I follow my father’s hands, worn with years…
Birth Mother
I stand in a perfectly pristine kitchen. The counter tops are covered in flour. She stands at them, waiting for me. She’s rolling out the cookie dough in deep, even strokes, like the ocean kissing…
Shameless
We stopped leaving the garage door open when we were cooking because I told my mom the police were saying criminals had been stealing equipment from garages. My dad was away on an engineering work…
The Porcelain Village
My clay hands are becoming solid porcelain. I have always had potter’s hands. The throwing water absorbs the moisturizing oils of the skin. Leaves the hands rough. The clay paste dries and cracks the skin. Leaving it red. But now…