I bent below the open window to plug in the coffee maker on a brisk late-April morning. The breeze filtering through the blinds carried more than pollen. For a moment in the sunlight, with the smell of warm tortillas behind me and the gurgling coffee beside me, I wasn't beneath my kitchen window. I was in el comedor with my Tica mama before walking to the market in that little Costa Rican town.
When stress was an imaginary monster under the bed. When my life still stretched before me like the breeze passing through my hair, invisible but warm. Constant.
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Fishing for Mermaids
Short StoryFishing for Mermaids is a collection of short stories about the complicated nature of desire, whether it's for a new life, a former lover, a new culture, a new look, a past experience, or even a mermaid. This collection contains stories written duri...
