“Margot waits outside for her mother, watching the evening disperse in bold orange and pink, a shawl of purple creeping at the edges of the sky. She’s eaten, but feels an emptiness she won’t learn to recognize until later as the expansion of herself – a good thing, but easy to mistake.”

“Margot waits outside for her mother, watching the evening disperse in bold orange and pink, a shawl of purple creeping at the edges of the sky. She’s eaten, but feels an emptiness she won’t learn to recognize until later as the expansion of herself – a good thing, but easy to mistake.”

— Dantiel W. Moniz