Each time it comes, I run, filled with curiosity and glee, pick up the strangely light box; hopes not quite shattered.
It is a box. It has arrived at my doorstep. It has to have something I will need.
And.
Each time. I open it, there lies space upon space of nothingness,
Just air.
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.
I coast softly with the wind, towards shore. Sunlight holds me up; moonlight towing me in. A vast ocean of rights and wrongs behind me:
“What is your purpose?” She asked earnestly. I stared back blankly. What is my purpose? Like a confused sixteen year old, I slouched shaking my
Still breathing I am no matter the weight of your words like a virus flying through my veins multiplying, infecting my beautifully calm, decisive platelets
“If you are in the green, that means you have more to give to this workout,” Jess said. I looked up at the giant screen.