Three years had passed since the virus lockdown, and she ached to go outside.
Every morning she put on her shoes, only to turn back at the doorstep.
Still not safe, she thought, though the media said otherwise. What if she walked into a deep cough or an explosive sneeze?
Debbi Antebi (@debbisland) lives in London, UK, with her husband and books.
It was how she went up to him at him at the party, waiting for me to be on the other side of the room. I just knew. He’ll deny it, and say I’m being jealous or paranoid, like all the other times. But I knew.
A woman always knows.
Matthew Corey is a writer living in Brooklyn, and has poems published in Two Cities Review, Travel-taintd: Turtle-Point Press Review, and fiction in the Lascaux Review.
“I love snowpeas,” she said, piling the green smiles into her bowl.
“I wonder how they feel about you.”
“I wonder if the remaining pods are fuming over the destruction of their brothers and planning a Guy Fawkes-style vendetta evenas we speak.”
“So… How’s that therapy going?”
Corinne currently resides in Ohio, where she derives most of her inspiration from urban decay, an alarm clock, and her bathroom mirror.
Water is my favourite drink
I sure find it delicious
If some old bad guy stole it all
I’d find it quite malicious
What would we do?
Where would we go?
We’d get so dehydrated
That’s why I built this reservoir
And sat down here
My lifestyle’s underrated