Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
I was never a “convertible person.” Hot in the summer. Cold in the winter. Buggy. Windy. Nope. Not for me. But … I had to admit, I looked good. Red was definitely my color. A horn blasted and I shifted my gaze to the truck also reflected in the store window. Resisting the urge to… Continue reading Red is Definitely My Color
All around me, conversations swell. I understand little but instead of seeming cacophonous, the words soothe. They distract from my reality until the prosecco dulls the pain. Then the old woman who runs the osteria stands over me, “Ciligie”? Seeing the cherries shakes me from my stupor. She continues, “Devi rimanere per La Notte… Continue reading Un’altra notte rossa
Frustrated, Jane muted the tv and glared at her roommates. Returning Jane’s glare, Peter lit up a joint and took a deep hit before blowing the smoke directly into her face. “Damn it! Pete. You know I’ve got a Zoom meeting.” “Not my problem. Shield your face. Wear one of those damn masks you keep… Continue reading Whatever Gets You Through the Night. It’s Alright.
She wondered whether the storm windows would hold. They were meant to keep out bad weather, not … well whatever was falling from the sky. It was funny she used to think the end of the world would come later. After she was gone. Not when her dreams were finally within her grasp. It wasn’t… Continue reading Climate Storm v. Storm Windows
Tina Stewart Brakebill 