There’s a picture of Mother Theresa that hangs on our living room wall where a television would go if we could afford the kind of television that hangs on the wall, or even a home with the kind of walls that could hold a television.
The walls of a trailer house aren’t made of the same stuff walls in a normal house are made of. In a trailer house, the walls crumble beneath your fingernails like chalk if you so much as scratch them.
A girl with body issues finds a chocolate bar that has special powers (drugs, magic, both?) and teleports her (in a way) to the past where she will learn things that may in the end be the path to self-love (hopes this makes sense).
The barista was taking his time with my order, and I silently thanked his dedication to the art of a well-squeezed orange. I glanced at his “Hello! My name is” badge. Xan. One of those names that announces the next generation is here, and they craft organic juice like it’s a meditative experience. As the queue grew longer behind me, my orange juice was achieving Zen.