I Quit My Job

I was terrified. My ears turned bright red, and I tried not to vomit.

An Open Letter To The Douchebag In My Yoga Class

We begin our practice, and all eyes are on you, Yoga Douche. Not because you skillfully transfer from Warrior Three into Standing Splits, but because you are wearing a bright green t-shirt with the words READING SUCKS emblazoned in all capital letters across the front. Who are you, Yoga Douche? Why are you dressed like a 90’s bully?

New York Without You Is A Battleground

It was the first cold day we were together, and we had never snuggled before. With trepidation, I linked my right leg over yours, and rested my head on the center of your chest.

This Is What I Do When You’re Gone

I go to restaurants alone. I sit on the steps at Grand Central and look up at the ceiling, the only place in New York where you can see stars.