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Kaitlan Bui

Post- Magazine

regret is a four letter word [narrative]

How do you begin to articulate an end? Perhaps shakily. Or hesitantly. Perhaps with your heart on your sleeve, or else on the verge of tears. Perhaps, like me, you wouldn’t want to begin at all. Perhaps you can tell, even in these words, that I am trying my best to run away from goodbye. 

Post- Magazine

something like the opposite of loneliness [narrative]

But first, I wish I knew where to begin. It is midnight again, and I am sitting at my computer, hoping this keyboard-clacking will somehow transfigure into the wisdom I need for tomorrow. The people I walked past today, avoiding puddles just like me, were hoping for wisdom too. I could simply be projecting, ...

Post- Magazine

in the places we call home [narrative]

Even as the first flakes of snow settle atop the dim street lamps, and even as the winter moon swallows the sun, I feel like I am falling into something warm. I have been since late August—falling, that is. Falling deeper and deeper into something like gentle love.

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