The lid shudders as the soup bubbles underneath.
I watch it seep out in short bursts of tremors.
I should turn the heat down, but all I want to do is turn it up;
all the way up so that it explodes
on to the stove and ceiling, scorching the floor too.
A puréed mixture of good and evil; happy and sad.
Everyone looks at this as a mistake, but I am relieved–finally.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
A matrix of lines stare back at me–a list of endless possibilities for a day of discovery. My feet my only transportation; oh glorious liberty:
“It’s a hard place to leave but an even harder place to live.” –Papa F aka PG’s philosopher dad. I know for a few days
We did nothing today, nothing at all for hours and hours, but it was everything, everything to us because after years of social media and
I lower my chest and inhale everything blurs the white line in front of me, the screaming crowds. My heartbeat slows and suddenly it’s all