Letters + Stories


Bye Bye Bicycle

At a 7-o’clock meeting this morning, a word popped into my train-wreck of thoughts: bicycle. The bane of my existence. My uttermost shame. But what a beautifully narrative word. The way these three syllables harmonize softly can only be achieved by sounding out the entirety of bicycle. Unlike bike, where the staccato takes away from this entire experience.

The first ever (and last) bicycle I have ever owned was given to me by a man I met on the train. I was a child at the time, and he was a graduate student. With my inability to stay still and innate keenness to wander, I hopped from one carriage to another until I bumped into him. He gave me candies and I probably told him about all of my imaginary friends, the only friends I had at the time. In the next few months, he took me to game nights his college hosted. I remember nibbling on ice cream bars while glancing up as he and his friends jabbed at one another, and feeling a little jealousy when he spoke with any other girls. I wasn’t living with my father at the time and saw my mother about once a week. So, it didn’t bother me when they teased him about having adopted a little girl. It gave me some sort of reassurance. Right before he graduated and moved away, he gave me the bicycle. It wasn’t anything fancy. But I loved it anyway and spent many hours of my days staring at it and pushing it around my empty living room.

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Some Days

When the wind whispers

Quietly, I listen to uncover your voice

Hoping for something, anything

While treading behind this veil of guarded poise

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Where Have My Neighbors Gone?

I’ll admit that I never knew the couple that lives next door to me very well, or even at all. When we first moved in, I grew suspicious of the broken blinds and the shattered flowerpot that remained unfixed in front of this seemingly vacant condo. There never was any light source. During some nights even, when I was returning home, I could have sworn I saw a pair of inhuman eyes fixated on my every move. It wasn’t until several months later when I bumped into my neighbors as we concurrently walked out of our opposing doorways that I realized they did exist. They were two attractive newlyweds and were both, to my surprise, quite normal. Since then, I have run into them a few more times while they walked their dog, a Yorkshire Terrier which finally explained the looming eyes at the window sill. 

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