All Stories
Food & Dining
I've been practicing the ancient art of sushi-making, mainly through watching YouTube tutorials while eating stale ramen, which isn't exactly the most reliable way to master the technique. Anyway, my cat, an unimpressed observer, lay under my kitchen table, periodically batting at bits of fish that slipped onto the floor.
Holidays & Events
The smell of stale eggnog clung to me like an uncle's bad cologne. My family's holiday party is a vortex of forced merriment, and I'm stuck at the periphery, feeling like a worn-out sweater.
Strangers
My grandmother's funeral brought with it this stranger sitting across from me at the reception, his eyes fixed intensely on the plate of cold chicken nuggets in front of him. Every now and then he'd take a small, tentative bite before returning his gaze to me.
Awkward
I fumbled into my ex's apartment building, still clutching the takeout container from the ill-conceived date the night before. I stood there in the vestibule, trying to summon the courage to buzz myself out.
Food & Dining
Mom's infamous seven-layer lasagna haunted the depths of my arteries as I stared blankly at last Friday's leftovers on the fridge door. A faded recipe card, scribbling reminders in an old Sharpie, had slipped beneath my feet earlier.
Travel
My mom insisted on packing a week's worth of snacks before we boarded the plane to Paris - goldfish crackers by the handful, granola bars with dates that were probably older than my aunt - and we ended up getting stopped at security three times because I wouldn't give them up, and now I'm standing at this gate with a tiny carry-on bag and no idea where we're going first.
Work
I spend more time navigating office politics than actual work tasks these days, it feels like I'm stuck in some surreal, HR-manufactured purgatory where the sole purpose is to maintain appearances and not rock the tiny, stagnant boat that is our department. We're a team of moderately successful middle managers, stuck between micromanaging our employees and appeasing our bosses – the endless see-saw that is office life.
First Times
I used to get anxious every time my mom dropped me off for violin lessons at 3 PM on Tuesdays, but for some reason, that particular afternoon sticks out in my memory. We lived on 14th Street, near the park where a guy sold fresh-cut daisies.
Holidays & Events
My grandmother insists I put on a festive apron to cook her special gingerbread Christmas dinner, though last year it ended with me drenched in eggnog and the oven on fire. She tells me to remember our Swedish traditions but I don’t actually eat the gingerbread men once they’re out of shape, their little white bellies sagging from the heat, and I pretend my eyes are watering to spare her feelings.
Bad Timing
The universe seemed to warp around me as I stood, frozen, in the produce stall, while the fluorescent lights hummed in perfect sync with the thrum of the nearby espresso machine. Across from me, two women huddled behind a pyramid of organic apples, their conversation about sustainable farming methods and gluten-free diets a soothing, if slightly too loud, background chatter.
Pets
It's been a month since I let my golden retriever, Atlas, run wild in the backyard, only to return and frantically search the entire house for a missing cushion that no longer held its usual spot on the living room couch. Amidst his triumphant tail wags and playful yelps, a stray thread from said cushion had become wedged in his mitten-like paw pads, making our evening routine quite the spectacle – I'd scrub it out under warm running water, only for it to somehow sneak right back onto his paw by bedtime, a cycle he seemed to delight in repeating.
Misunderstandings
I once wore a "World's Okayest Golfer" t-shirt and accidentally convinced our office mail lady, Mrs. Jenkins, that it was a prestigious club membership ID.
Food & Dining
Sarong wrapped around my hips, I stood in front of the refrigerator, frozen. We were supposed to make risotto tonight, but I had never actually made risotto without assistance.
Travel
The worn leather journal I scribbled notes into on that disastrous trip has given up its fight, pages now a mangled mess of tea-stains and scribbled out train times. I remember being convinced that a well-timed rendition of an obscure Bulgarian folk song would ease the pain of being lost in a foreign city.
Oversharing
Moments I'd rather forget involve the time I accidentally confessed my crush to the coffee shop manager during a heated debate about the perfect coffee-to-water ratio. I was mortified.
Drinking & Parties
Fumbling around my kitchen, I knock over a jar of cocktail stirrers, shattering its fragile contents in a mess of colored plastic. It's exactly 7:03 PM on what I've determined is the perfect party-throwing Saturday.
Tech Fails
As I struggled to reconnect the severed wires on my latest DIY robotic project, my roommate's loud karate instructor in the flat below us made me misspeak into the walkie-talkie for what felt like the hundredth time, "Echo-1, this is Nova-12: status unknown." Silence. Probably he'd muted it by now, judging by the way he glared at me through the floor vents whenever the walkie-talkie's incessant bleating disturbed his focus.
Drinking & Parties
My aunt's famous three-tiered Jell-O mold was already wobbling when I arrived at the outdoor BBQ. The last time I was this close to my second cousins, I was 14 and wearing a Nirvana t-shirt.
Misunderstandings
The smell of last night's pizza wafted through our morning coffee, overpowering the aroma of over-brewed grounds. I awkwardly juggled spoon and pastry, trying not to get crumbs on my interview outfit for a job I was fairly certain I couldn't get.
Food & Dining
There's still a crumb stuck to my sweatpants from lunch, a faint outline of a peanut butter and banana sandwich my mom made this morning. I remember trying to tell her I'd lost my lunch, then catching myself glancing at her hand, at the crumbs scattered on her apron like tiny fingerprints of my dishonesty.
Food & Dining
My aunt once accidentally set her dining table with a velvet Elvis painting as the centerpiece because she thought the silver glitter was for decorations, but the smell alone was enough to put me off the mediocre five-layer lasagna she'd spent six hours assembling – its bland cheese and burnt noodles a perfect match for the eerie, kitschy presence lurking between the wine bottles and the flowers; that was dinner the day I decided to develop my habit of arriving very early to family gatherings.
Friends
The smell of stale coffee clings to our conversation, a lingering reminder of last night's 3 a.m. discussion about nothing in particular.