Panic rises up in Lilia’s chest, and she feels her eyes helplessly begin to burn. There’s an end coming— she can feel it in the quiet summer heat. The evening is holding its breath.
Author: Anya Liu
Kneeling on the wooden deck of the boat, legs sticky with seawater and fruit juice, she looks up and watches as the sky above her seems to quiver once, twice, and then begins to slowly peel away. Beyond the flaking sun, she can make out the fuzzy shadow of her ceiling fan, the faint glow of her bedside lamp. A grape in retrograde. A dream, closing in on itself.
A tall oak tree shifting in the sunlight of a distant memory.