There is no fixed place and by that I mean take a look at things that are. Split by the turn of year, its newness and all it brings, which of its possibilities can we trust? Elsa is involved in a clandestine love affair which, let's be honest, should be all love affairs until they're over. She finds herself dreaming of children and many other delicacies. Sugared eggs. A lost palace. But night brings a great expanse and it's much too quiet in these hallways. On her back, Elsa holds her breath, her hands beneath her, resisting, resisting. That temptation can be such a dirty rat. Copyright © 2017 Angela Veronica Wong. Used with permission of the author. |
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