The Harvard Advocate

On my left knee, there are two fine, slim scars, silver as a grey hair. The skin is rough and textured, mirrored on my right one, a…

The day she turned forty, my mother burst into flames. I watched it reflected in my father’s glassy eyes across the dinner table, yellow and…

I’m right on the steps of a hall. Hubris. It helped the heaving of having been there in some same past. That is all where I lived, for my…