This is my balloon. His name is Charlie. He’s my best friend. Sometimes Charlie talks to me. Like just now, he said to keep walking when we get to the end. I can’t swim, but that’s okay. Charlie knows what he’s doing. The Daily Post
The Daily Post The air is hot, dense, and toxic, I feel my lungs boiling then shriveling. The lace curtains my grandmother made sparkle and flash like fireflies, then disintegrate. A smoldering pillowcase Scorches the bedspread as the flames take over, buckling the door and wrinkling the walls. Everything is screaming.
The Daily Post Last month's editorial page lay rumpled on my floor. Its letters graying and damp-wrinkled, edges curling upward. Broken shells that once held sunflower seeds piled in one corner and a plastic mirror with a silenced bell in the other. How that bell drove me crazy with its incessant, cheap-metal jingle! In retrospect, [...]