PROSE
BEES FLUTTER There was no better place for an existential crisis than jammed on the back of a bus, Beatrice reflected. Every bit of individuality was lost as you were sandwiched between complete strangers, all fighting to try not to fall as the bus made sharp turns. She could never show her sadness in school, where any tangentially embarrassing moment could destroy her reputation for the rest of high school. The back of the bus became a safe place, where she could finally release all of her frustration amongst equally tired students. She knew her frustration, which was usually aimed at her friends, was unsustainable, and even hypocritical in a sense. After all, had she not made the same complaints? Just a few short months ago, she had constantly cried about boys and grades and clubs, believing that her life was a bottomless pit of failure and rejection, that she would never be happy. Her father always told her that she would look back on that time with nothing but joy as she grew old, because she had everything anyone could want in the world. She had never known his advice to be wrong, but just this once, she wished it had.
by aarya morgaonkar
1|The penchant||DEC 2021
She had never known his advice to be wrong, but just this once, she wished it had
