Ma won’t make poha for us on Sunday evenings anymore, and even on the rare occasions that she does, she won’t serve those golden-yellow grains alongside a glass full of steaming hot milk. I no longer ride behind your metallic cycle on my pastel one every school morning. I go by car, the one you ...
I walk out of my dorm in my polka-dot pajamas and short-sleeved crushed watermelon T-shirt to get myself some food. Halfway to the Ratty, I realize I have made a pathetic decision. I pull my phone out and frantically text the group chat:
I stepped onto a campus sidewalk, two days after the rush of move-in and still unsure how to find my way to V-Dub from my EmWool dorm, the Main Green a foreign field. I remember staring at your face, confused about why you were extending your arm forward to shake my hand, completely oblivious to the ...
You realize that you’ve forgotten to throw Love in the trashcan. Love passed its expiry date a year ago but remains stuck to the ceiling of your room because you want to stare at the ceiling and think of Love every night before falling asleep.
Solutions by The State News
