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An Old Hope
In previous pages of my journal, what I had remembered of the poem she’d shared with me, I jotted down.
Is that comfortable?
That was so beautiful, Wenwen.
Here’s the only one I know by heartThe only one?Or, at least, I think I know it by heartOkay, yeah, I’ve got it. I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox. And which you were probably saving for breakfastForgive me.. They were delicious. So sweet. And so cold.
Did you forget the rest?No, that’s the whole poem. It’s super famous.
Oh I like it.
Wenwen is so wonderful
How did you two meet?
It’s the pubes!He had no idea why I found it so exciting.
Watching this easy display of friendship made my tender piece-of-shit heart so happy.
Alright, we won’t be seeing you off then.
Thank you so much for your kind welcome and hospitality. I’ll never forget it as long as I live
This was a pennyIt used to be worth one cent and now it’s worth nothing.
It’s a silly tourist thing, a machine that turns regular pennies into souvenir pennies. If you come to Philly, I can show you.
He looks just like Tiàotiao
She’s obsessed with having a baby
It’s finally possible. We’re old enough, we’ve got enough savings
He’s the one. Just listen to him!
I don’t think that is hereditary
Annina Zheng-Hardy is a fiction writer and poet. Her writing can be found in Joyland, The Offing, and bath magg among other publications.
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More in this series
Be Vital! Be Vigorous! Ride the Rollercoaster
Talking about it would make me sound mentally ill, and sounding mentally ill—in this economy?—feels dangerous.
Every Little Homie Needs a Nickname
Listen, it’s okay to say you want something to stick around. It’s okay to love something.
The Americanization of Kambili
I hissed the words at her. “This, your America, it will kill you.”