October 29, 2024
Flashbang
The building next door was stripped naked, its shattered windows gaping onto disarranged kitchens and bedrooms. My aunt’s building was leveled entirely. “Pow,” she said, flattening the air between her hands.
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July 3, 2024
New Habits
I await her daily dispatches so I can edit and publish them. I get this homework done quickly, afraid any tardiness would disappoint the teacher.
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March 20, 2024
Dispatch from Gaza
by Huda Soboh
Each morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierce through the darkness, I find myself drawn to the window, searching for that familiar sight. And when I see them—those vibrant kites painted against the backdrop of the azure sky—my heart swells with a sense of hope that defies the despair that threatens to consume us.
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