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Miss President, The Problem
A memoir piece / Caution warned: Sometimes it’s best not to know. But the cursor relentlessly blinked at me with his name in the search bar.
I’m not sure why or how he entered my mind that night. Maybe it was instinct, roused by deep, restless memories clawing their way to the surface. Or maybe it was fate, intent on showing me what had become of the man who still haunted me.
Lavender’s Light
A travel writing piece / The sunlight was too bright when I stepped off the train at Le Gare de Cannes. I was used to Paris–its clouds and rain were a deep grey that matched my own. The girl who’d arrived at Charles de Gaulle in September–wide-eyed, eager, full of hope–was gone. Cannes got what was left of her: a faint shadow against the train’s window, tears blurring the passing landscapes into smears of color.
Lola
A lyric memoir piece / I can still see her, though I haven’t seen her in years. Small enough to fit in my backpack, her fur once white and caramel but faded by time and love. Her nose was stitched black, and one of her ears was thinner where I’d rubbed it between my fingers at night–mainly to calm myself from the monsters under the bed. I named her Lola. I don’t remember why. It just felt right. She was mine, and I was hers.
Renée E. Corvin 