​How Much Is Waking Up? ​“How much is it?” I say to the lady in my dreams. “How much is what?” says the kind lady. “How much is it for me to open my eyes in the morning?” I say with a soft smile, waiting for a response. ​The lady looks at me and sighs, seeing my lack of knowledge. “Well, young lady, waking up is actually priceless.” “Is it really?” I release a breath of relief. She smiles and says, “Ye...” ​By then, I woke up. I look at where I am: in bed, ready to start the

The bell clanged against the door harshly and discordantly rather than with its usual sweet tinkle. With the abrupt sound also came a jerk of movement from the counter: twenty-something MY NAME IS ___, the primary cashier of Lawson Mini Mart for all of four months. Her stint as the convenience store’s four-to-nine caretaker had, for the most part, been an uneventful one; she kept the back area tidy, she would make her rounds throughout the tiny store to restock or just let h

Fingerprints I Try To Wear. I was hollow, so I bent. Let them mold me, let them dent. Every hand that claimed to care Left fingerprints I couldn’t wear. “Too quiet,” they said. So I tore my seams, Unraveled my voice into tangled dreams. Thread by thread, I bled my plea. Soft and silent, “Please love me.” “Too cold,” they hissed. So I burned my grace, Peeled my skin to show my face. Warmth spilled out in crimson lace, They touched the wounds and called it safe. My ches

I didn't know what to draw on the blank page. How can I capture my future on a single sheet of paper? I'm not even a good artist, let alone a fortune teller. The future is the most unpredictable thing in the world, especially for a lass like me in a suburban village and with no grand fortune to back me up or whatsoever. My mind is a pond of ideas but none of my thoughts are the fish I hope to catch. The art teacher will soon finish his stroll, walk back into the class, and