From that first sip, my world felt full of possibility.
Today, there weren’t any signs: it was a relaxed time in the forest.
Neither of us had heard enough details to make anything significant out of the news and didn’t know what to say.
Just sheer, dumb luck had seen us through the summer storms and the monsoon’s power fluctuations without a major disaster.
I nodded, although at points I was barely listening.
I took some notes on the buildings I passed: Grass, birds, and rabbits painted onto the side of a daycare. I can get behind that.
If the ball needs to be kicked in, it’s whacked.
I took a picture and captioned it, “This is what transnational loneliness looks like.”
Sixty bottles of wine, two-hundred cans of beer, ten russian salads, five platters of Manchego cheese, twelve bags of crackers, three bags of chips, fifteen bowls of hummus, three plates of fried peppers, three cakes, two coffee thermoses, fifty wine glasses...