Journalism, essays, fiction, the ruckus. Brooklyn, NY.
The woman who works in the office points out where Anna and Mildred walked together, where Mildred pulled out a pistol and shot Anna, then herself, because of a man named Jack.
What I cared about at this time—2011, March through June: distraction. Not fixing anything yet, just pushing it all away—it hurt, it burned me. I cried in the shower, loud enough for my housemates to hear, I howled, and it made no difference in my body.