About once a week, I wake up across the river in the bed of a 30-year-old man (sorry, Mom). I kept this routine to myself for a few months, and when I eventually told friends, they usually reacted with, “No, you’re not,” “Are you joking?” or “Is he rich?” To almost everyone, the idea that ...
In the car with my brother over winter break one year, I tried to inconspicuously Shazam the song he was playing. That move has seldom led me astray, and in this instance, it brought me to “Situations” by Robert Lester Folsom. I was struck by the song because of its last verse, one that spoke to ...
Every holiday, I take the same train home. Even though I live in a tiny town, the Amtrak stops 12 minutes away from my house. I know all the stops along the way: New London, Mystic, Westerley, Kingston, Providence. Something is a bit different every time—the snow is fresher, more trees have fallen, ...
TW: substance abuse
I walked with a friend into a wooded area behind Young Orchard, my heart beating too fast from hearing seven people talk about internships for an hour. I don’t smoke, but watching my friend smoke a cigarette had a vicariously calming effect on me. I kicked around a stick and took deep breaths as they ...
Last spring, I paced around CVS near closing time and then called a guy I barely knew to go on a walk. After walking through the sharp cold of the lingering winter, we ended up in a lecture hall in 85 Waterman, where we sat in the front row and got to know each other. Every time he asked me a question, ...
Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time with the people who love me. I watch the date change on my phone as 11:59 turns to midnight, wondering which day they’ll decide that I’m not their type of person anymore. I think I’ve found my people: they know me, they love me, and they make this ...
In August, it rained for two weeks straight. I had only packed one sweater for a two-month internship, and the threads were thinning out at the cuffs. It was 1:30 a.m.—the latest I had stayed up all summer—and I sat in the corner of my host family’s guest bedroom. I held the fading knit fabric ...
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I sat in my dorm’s communal kitchen painting my friend’s nails. It was mid-first semester and the heat hadn’t turned on yet, so it was uncomfortable to wear anything less than a sweatshirt. Every time I finished a nail, my friend would lift his hand close to his eyes to examine the quality of ...
Solutions by The State News
