Her kind of loneliness only appears under refrigerator light. Not over-emphasized loneliness. Nothing dramatic. No rain against the windows. No violin swelling in the background. Just a woman standing barefoot in an oversized T-shirt at 1am, staring...

I. Perch Three little birds on a wire that hums with other people’s electricity. They do not argue about direction. They lean. One shifts. The wire trembles. The other two adjust without calling it sacrifice. This is how small creatures hold up a mo...

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 tw...

Morning murmurs There’s a peculiar language to the house in these early hours — the kind that whispers if you stand still long enough. Cups rattle on saucers, floorboards sigh under shoes that remember too much, and somewhere, a lonely sock wails fo...