anemoia
by Zerjemae C. Zaragoza We fall apart like plucked blossoms, like stars at the end of their lifespans, except not as grand and poetic, nor tranquil and picturesque— only an ending that resembles happy if you squint hard enough that tragedy blurs amongst stalls of lantern lights. It’s funny and infuriating all at once, how much life likes clean sheets warmed by sun, but time likes them cold and drenched, and how you are in the middle of their petty arguments about which glass should be filled today— misery or happiness, war or peace? And usually, the fights end in compromise. “Let humanity experience the best of both worlds in one decade, even better if in one day—best in one paradoxical minute that stretches into a lifetime like skin.”
illustration by Joseph B
12
