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Marin Warshay


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Post- Magazine

the routine of nostalgia [narrative]

It was around early October when I first met him. He was basketball-sized and soft as the classic fuzzy blanket I get on each birthday. His dark button eyes, nestled in golden fur, met mine as he propped himself onto his hind legs, front paws in my hands, looking like a distinguished gentleman giving ...

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Post- Magazine

our bodies' voices [narrative]

My mom shook me awake. Taking a nap outside my bedroom door had seemed like a good idea to me at the time until my mom said she hadn’t been able to wake me up for several minutes. Because I wasn’t just napping—I had passed out. She plopped me down on the couch and force-fed me a cookie until I ...

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Post- Magazine

to the bride-to-be...at some point [narrative]

I’m in the room with her. I know my mom is there too, but I can’t say for sure who else is. My mom and I are fluttering around my sister like the little birds that talk to Cinderella before the ball. I’m not sure what this room is, what it looks like, or if it’s even a room at all. But it doesn’t ...

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Post- Magazine

wheels turning, gears grinding [narrative]

In the past two years, various breakthroughs around the world have pushed the limits of scientific discovery. An mRNA vaccine was FDA-approved for the first time. Worldwide quarantines have made philanthropists out of bored remote workers. Public health officials, healthcare workers, and first responders ...

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