Kate Miller

Pretend you remember the scent of lemon rind carefully grated over freshly baked cakes your grandmother made, the ones you were too full to eat but ate anyway.   Pretend that you remember answering those phone calls, caring too much to tell her you were busy. Instead, talking for hours about memories no one can […]

3 The door slams. Three white men dart around the store hidden behind their black dusty balaclavas. Aisles emptied, cigarettes, and smashed bottles of alcohol scattered across the floor. They flee, evaporate, leaving behind only our staggered breaths. A peculiar mix of blood and bleach stains the white cobbled shop floor a peculiar coral. I