Used to be that weekends were my refuge, my resting place, my recharge station
When did they become the other? Filled with mysteries, I obsess to solve in my head letting thin slimy threads slip out now and then
Used to be that evenings, I couldn’t wait for, bouncing the minute that key jiggled in the lock, a puppy awaiting her owner
When did they become a dreaded period? hours immersed in fears I can’t escape. A constant state of restraint from my desires.
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.
We only talk in brief text messages, can go months upon months in silence, I do not know where you live even, no address, no
Baby bulbous bubbles sprout to the surface spiraling to the top and bursting into fizz each eager bulb excitedly bouncing around; they spin together playing
What’s your size? She asks. “Oh, you know, 6, 8, 10.” I. Am. A turtle, retreating into her shell. A deflated balloon on the frozen