Shadow on Holiday
Some shadows are obedient. Mine… is not. At precisely 2:17 every afternoon, it detaches with a casual little pop, like a balloon slipping its knot. I don’t notice at first—why would I?—until I realize my coffee cup is empty, my laptop has shifted two inches to the left, and my shadow is nowhere to be seen.
Notes From the Windowsill
The windowsill has become a small council of objects:
a chipped mug that has survived three moves and two heartbreaks,
a notebook that smells faintly of coffee and misplaced ambition,
and a pen that refuses to write neatly no matter how many times I threaten it.
About Laugh Like Sun
We’re a literary collective devoted to the beauty of the everyday — the stories tucked inside ordinary moments, the poetry of soft light, the humor of things left unsaid.
We believe in writing that lingers. In work that’s quiet but full. In moments that seem small until you look again.
This is a home for gentle truths, kitchen-sink revelations, and the kind of language that stays with you. Whether it’s a fragment, a full essay, or a memory scribbled on a napkin — if it glows with life, we’re listening.
We laugh like sun — warm, honest, a little unexpected.
Pull up a chair. There’s room for you here.