Family Portraits

was a floating druggie. Bonnie had heard Riley’s songs blast through her headphones; it sounded far too violent for her taste and she couldn’t understand how a person could listen to such music for fun.

Three months into their cohabitation, Bonnie returned to a strangely quiet dorm. She opened the door and found Riley sitting at her desk without her usual studded defenses; she looked frail. She came around and saw that Riley was holding a postcard of Bonnie’s family in St. Simons Island, and a ten-year-old Bonnie was beaming up at the pair.

“Homesick,” was the only word Riley offered.

Bonnie smiled and explained how her family used to take a vacation there every summer. Riley smiled: her family had too. She asked Bonnie if she’d ever been to the Magnolia Diner, and the pair discovered they shared a favorite place on the island. Something clicked in Bonnie’s mind. She might’ve found a single thread to stitch the pair together. She scanned the bookshelf over her bed and pulled out a scrapbook while beckoning Riley to join her.

They flipped through old photos of Bonnie’s younger years spent on the island until they stumbled across one taken inside Magnolia Diner. Their eyes were drawn to a familiar head of jet-black hair. Riley’s eyes widened into saucers. There she was in the background, a nine-year-old Riley two tables behind Bonnie’s family. The pair laughed and smiled and shared stories about their families until they both became homesick, flooded by a synchronous wave of longing. At the same moment, Jules came in with a dazed smile that melted as she saw the pair moping on Bonnie’s bed.

Bonnie eyed Jules, she had always felt the sunny girl who never had a glum day must’ve been wiser than them. “How do you stop missing your family? How do you not miss home?”

Jules smiled and shuffled into a spot on the crowded mattress. “You don’t, but you can make a home wherever you go. It doesn’t suck as much that way.”

“Have you made one?” Riley asked. Jules shook her head.

At that moment, Bonnie decided to make that room into their home away from home no matter what. If she and Riley loved the same diner, surely they must share other loves.

After that day, the three became closer. A few weeks later, Jules and her hippie friends took Bonnie and Riley out for their first real night drinking, ending up in a smoky room with Jules teaching them how to behave. Another day, Riley came home with two leather jackets she found in a thrift store and declared they were for Bonnie and Jules, but she said they weren’t done yet. So, all three girls stayed up late into the night decorating the jackets with pins, although Bonnie insisted on embroidering hers (helping Riley discover she liked embroidery, too). Bonnie helped the other girls organize their notes to get ready for their exams, becoming a minor celebrity in the other girls’ friend groups in the process.

When it came time to choose housing for their sophomore year, all three made sure they’d be together again. Although, this time they asked for separate rooms in the same suite. As much as she loved them now, Bonnie still couldn’t handle all the clothes the other girls left on the floor.

-Kaelyn Sandifer

The Curse of Orpheus

Void in my thoughts and feelings, drained of a Soul, I walk unconsciously in regret. Silent and desperate pleas for a new say. The unforgiving summer air begets

A melancholy I can almost bite.

I walk through a crowd noticing every Push, every touch, every minor delight. This cold blanketing my mind is deathly. The left of my shoulder thaws and I turn To find the face of my love smiling back. Something unnoticed and needlessly yearned: A support system sans rewards or praise. And unlike mythology, you leave ne’er. You are my Eurydice, always there.

- Grace Myers

Directors: Ellie Altman-Sagan and Asuka Kurebayashi

Models: Cleah Dyer, Ty Moxie, Sumaya Hardi, Lauren Salliotte, Luca Drago

Art: Alexa Miller

Creative: Natalie Meredith, Olivia Santos Huertas

Editorial: Roxana Behdad

Fashion: Armita Jamshidi, Ananthi Jayasundera, Alexis Tosounian

Photography: Pia Glaysher, Caroline Graves, Marina Morgan

Set Design & Props: Jackson Feldman, Bella Raneri

by Roxy Behdad

The floors creaked as she walked, a constant reminder that the house had a presence, a life of its own. She instantly knew that creak would come to be her favorite sound.

As her hands grazed across the walls, she found her fingers drawn to multicolored ink coloring the door frame. In those colorful marks she discerned numbers, labels of various heights and ages.

The shouts of rowdy children echoing the hallways. Rays of crisp summer sun penetrating through the room. Familial bliss. A blond-haired boy of just eight years old jumps up and down, begging to have himself measured. This impression of growth may just be a signal of impending maturity, but he doesn’t mind. As his mother swiftly brushes down his disheveled hair, she marks a new line with bright blue ink. 4’5.” 1970. Miles.

She soon took notice of the TV, admirable in its shamelessly ordinary presence. She instantly knew that in the presence of the television, she would find tranquility.

It had not yet been plugged in. In this blinding confrontation with Wthe black display, she was forced to reckon with the reflection of her own appearance. In the outline of her sculpted face she gleaned a caged inner self, patiently awaiting its release.

The baby’s screams harshly contrast the light whistles of the creatures just outside the window. The sun begins to fall, effortlessly and beautifully. Exhaustion amidst serenity. The mother begins to believe that her child’s room is an abyss—once she enters, she is never quite able to leave. She calls for her husband to switch places with her—no response. Suddenly, a wave of autonomy rushes over the woman. Within seconds she finds herself glued to the carpet in front of the TV. She doesn’t even turn it on, she just sobs: quietly, passionately, cathartically.

The cushions lining the couch begged to be sat upon, alluring in their homely comfort. She instantly knew that couch would be the origin of new beginnings.

Her clothes were filthy from the move, but she didn’t care. She sat herself on the pristine piece of furniture. After a moment, she lifted herself from the couch, and as she did so, she spotted a quarter coyly hiding under the cushion.

The repeated ticking of the clock permeates from all corners of the room. The moon is steadfast, a fixture draping from the sky. Tension builds. She thought ten minutes was an eternity, she realizes it was a mere instant. Her husband is now two hours late for family dinner. She leaves the kitchen and plants herself on the couch, yearning to escape the smell of lasagna and ignorant hope. She decides to play a game. She reaches for a rusty quarter deep in her pocket, deciding to let fate determine whether this is her breaking point—whether she should leave. She flips the coin: tails.

The living room stands resolute in the house, an emblem of the chaotic dynamism of life. She instantly knew that it would come to be her favorite room.