“I’d arrived to campus that first time wind-tattered, make-up smeared by an hour’s worth of sweat. My wrist ached from nursing the clutch around curves, hazard-level winds pushing me to the edge…”

“He could see the highway in my eyes, the black-tar sinking like tidepools in the corners. I sagged into the couch and sighed into the steam…”

“I would walk, trash bags twisted onto my ankles to shield against snow melt, until I could rest against the bark, flick through songs, and watch as my breath drifted to the shivering leaves…”

“I heard it first before I saw it: a haphazard tapping, urgent as a whisper, against the window…”

“No one told me I was always meant to lose her. To this day, I wonder why they did it…”

“When those eyes flash from yards away, a sickly yellow, there is no time to breathe, to think…”

“I shrank my life to a box so often it became normal. So, when I saw how the University of North Dakota hid entire boxes of artifacts, a small, strange part of me no longer felt alone…”