My house is made of windows. I clench the rock in my hand and shove it in my pocket.
They slur words by the barbecue—the meat sings as it burns.
I jump on the trampoline and break through. My ankles begin swelling as I limp through empty beer cans.
Khalilah Okeke was raised in the Pacific Northwest and now resides in Sydney, Australia, with her husband and two children. Her work has been published in Down in the Dirt magazine, The Red Eft Review, and The Orissa Society of the Americas Journal. You can follow her blog at khalilahokeke.wordpress.com.
A stagnant line, clinking milk bottles and morning gossip murmur. The delivery truck arrives late.
“The price has gone up!”
The murmur rises; no complaint, only frustration. With the decade-long war, people are used to this.
The old man puts down his empty bottle and walks away, never to return.
Mehdi spent many long hours of his childhood standing in queues for groceries and other necessary items during the Iran-Iraq war.
Anna was once again berating the office printer. Her list of irritations was well into double figures by 11 AM. The printer finally kicked out the presentation and Anna went back to her claustrophobic cubical.
The printer sighed. “No ‘thank you’ again. Maybe tomorrow I just won’t turn on at all!”
Amy who lives in a black hole training to be an apple, but it’s all coming out pear shaped. Luckily she has her helper dog, Ellie, to munch on the worms. Read her blog at www.Blind-Style.com.