I maneuver slowly from the bathtub. As I grab the towel, my eyes catch my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. My grip loosens the hold,

I make eye contact with the host and signal to sit. I chose the communion bar table to my right. My company is late; the

Sunrise will begin at 6:36 AM. I’ve always had a secret love affair with the moon, so it only makes sense I should court the

I blew into the icy air, and my warm breath made smoke signals. I could make shapes; it was fun until my dad lightly scolded

It is a happy occasion, and this maternal overload of love running through my veins is normal; I tell myself this on repeat. But just

No one talks about the aftermath. No one teaches you how to deal with the part of divorce, where you no longer exist in your