“we are hanging out” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Friday, December 14, 2018
5 minutes
From a text

The last time we hung out it was summer
it was raining it feels like a long time ago

Time is a snake slithering quick then slow
winding around the belly of the truth

You were wearing that denim shirt from forever ago
I had just cut my hair and it hadn’t
settled in yet

You had stopped smoking and I had started reading
Dostoevsky only took me three years to finish
Crime and Punishment

You were less pretension then especially in the glow
of the sputtering streetlight I was trying to
learn the tune of your wanting

I only think about you sometimes not always
don’t flatter yourself

I only think about you when I smell orange or
see two crows sitting side-by-side on a branch

“The biggest personality among this trio” by Sasha at her counter

Wednesday November 7, 2018
5 minutes
High Living
Jacqueline Ranit

Becca has the biggest personality of the three of us, I would say. Then comes Miranda and then comes me. I’m the quiet one. I’m not a wallflower, I mean I’ve french kissed a few people and puffed on a couple of joints even, I’m not, like, a nerd or anything. We’re semis. Not popular and not not popular. Semi popular. People in the caf don’t totally ignore us and if Miranda gets a new mini-backpack or something then someone might say something, might give her a compliment and then give Becca a compliment on her gold hoops and then maybe give me a compliment on my haircut. I didn’t get a haircut exactly, but I’ve stopped straightening my hair which means that it does look shorter.

“I got my new hair” by Sasha on her porch

Wednesday, June 24, 2015
5 minutes
Overheard at grange park

“Here we go,” he says, lifting Jo up. He puts her in her carseat. She isn’t sure about how tight it buckles around her waist. She isn’t sure about the smell of Dad’s breath. “Ahhh,” she says. He kisses her on the nose. “You’re a buttercup, Jo. You’re my little sunshine buttercup.” He closes the door and gets in the front seat. “Like my new hair, Jo?” He asks, checking himself out in the rearview mirror. “Gaaaa,” she says.

Somewhere on the highway, away from the buses and the hum of the city, he pulls over and calls Veronique. “Honey, I’ve got Jo. We’re going to visit your brother.” She hears her mother’s resistance and makes a small coo in solidarity.

“The slip, Sir, the slip” by Sasha at Nova Era Bakery

Monday June 17, 2013
11:19am at Nova Era Bakery
5 minutes
Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare

The blue, the silk, the wave, hugs her hips, her breasts, the straps delicate over her shoulders. When she took off her dress, she had struggled with the zipper. It was caught, it was cheap, it would need to be replaced. “Help me with this?” She’d said. The blue, the silk, the ripple, over her body, sheer but covering. “When are you going to get your hair cut?” She asks, putting her gold earrings into her jewellery box and covering her face in Nivea Cream. “I’m not sure,” I say, not the right answer but the true one. “You look awful,” she says. “You look beautiful,” I smile. Her face is covered in the cream, white and thick. I put my socks in the wicker hamper. “Did you get more toilet paper?” She calls from the toilet, door open.

“you do it because” by Sasha at Nova Era Bakery

Monday May 13, 2013
11:15am at Nova Era Bakery
5 minutes
Wild Mind
Natalie Goldberg

It started with a tube of toothpaste. I didn’t think anything of it. I guess she had used mine once, when she hadn’t felt like using her own, when she’d wanted a break from Colgate. Fine. Totally okay. I’m cool with that. Then it was a haircut. As if, maybe, she’d brought in that photo we took on my birthday and said to the stylist, “Like that. Like hers.” Next, she’d asked where I bought my boots. “Vintage,” was a safe choice. A lie, but a safe choice. “Damn,” she’d said. When I walked by her room, door open, teddybear pertly displayed beside white and yellow pillows on her bed, a journal tossed at the foot. I gasped. “That’s my fucking…” I grabbed the book and opened it, seeing that it wasn’t mine at all. It was new. It was hers.