It’s the tea kettle that wakes me up. I jolt upright, slightly disoriented. The sun gleams brilliantly through the tall windows that line the walls of Jonathan’s loft, splashing light across the floor in front of the bed.
Read More Untitled, Part INormally, when something you claim to love is adamantly trying to destroy you, it’s called an unhealthy relationship. But when that thing is New York City, it’s called a Tuesday.
Read More New York, We Need to TalkI reach into my bag for my wallet, and when my hand does not immediately find it, my stomach drops in that way that lets one know that shit is about to get real.
Read More The Time I Was Robbed
