All Stories
Awkward
A kiosk worker waved a sample at me and said, “Let me fix your skin.” My skin?? He smeared mystery lotion on my hand and launched into a five-minute pitch about exfoliation, hydration, and aging.
School
My palms were a faint, clammy echo as I clutched the edges of my desk in the worn linoleum cafeteria, avoiding eye contact with the cafeteria worker's bemused expression as she asked about my tray selection for the umpteenth time today. My stomach churned with the unspoken fear that I'd somehow – accidentally, innocently – picked up the tray someone else had left, a fear so irrational it didn't need to be voiced.
Food & Dining
This is a travesty, but our wedding reception had the most questionable buffet ever: 'Chef Bob's Kitchen Sink Melting Pot'. It was a chaotic display of Jell-O, Stouffer's, and Cheeto-crusted meatballs.
Food & Dining
Sometimes I confuse the kitchen with an archaeological site and end up eating what I'm supposed to be dusting off.
Oversharing
Fingers stained with turmeric, I rummaged through a pile of yesterday's unwitnessed memories while attempting to cook a decent dosa - my mother's culinary curse, the inability to resist inserting unsolicited kitchen lessons still lingered. The soft murmur of my partner asking what I was making, followed by a disinterested glance towards the TV, sent a shiver down my spine, the kind that occurs when something fundamental in your universe just unravels.
First Times
My cousin taught me to play hockey at her ratty old rink in rural Michigan, which smelled of mildew and forgotten dreams. We skated around in a haze of cigarette smoke, our laughter muffled by our masks.
Strangers
I stared at the blank space beside my grandmother as she scribbled on her bingo card during what felt like the hundredth consecutive game we endured at the VFW. Her pencil hovered like a hummingbird as she pondered her next move, eyes fixed intently on a squiggle of numbers that held all her hopes for a hot tub by the pool.
Strangers
The worn linoleum beneath my feet seemed to shimmer in the fluorescent glare as I spilled coffee all over the stranger's sketchbook. Our eyes met in that fleeting moment of embarrassment, and she smiled, this fleeting, almost imperceptible crease on one side of her mouth.
Awkward
Mornings after a particularly grueling night of sleep-deprived piano practice are like wandering into a damp cave blindfolded – disorienting. I stumble out of my room, my creaky floorboards protesting the weight of my footsteps.
First Times
As I fidgeted with the worn wooden handle of the shovel, the smell of damp earth wafted through the air, carrying with it a familiar yet unwelcome nervousness. Today was the day I'd finally dig my grandparents' garden for the summer, but more pressing on my mind was the looming family reunion later that evening.
Public Places
Sweat accumulated in neat beads on the vending machine as I leaned in to retrieve a pack of stale gum. I hated mornings in shopping malls – everyone else's early alerting brightness was amplified in me, making it impossible to gauge the time on my wristwatch.
Oversharing
My aunt once spilled coffee on my cousin's favorite sweater – I know, I know, so have many other people – but I've always gotten an uncomfortable laugh out of it because I think about it every time I see that shade of burgundy.
School
My fingers have been trained on the pencil nub for most of my life, and yet I still hesitate to use my left hand for drawing, which only leads to me having a bunch of crumpled papers with wonky lines where I was trying to do a 'real' sketch while I actually just needed to show the teacher it wasn't me who scribbled 'I hate Mrs. Patel' on the ceiling fan in art class.
Public Places
In the fluorescent glow of the food court, I spill soup on my tie for the third time this week. A young girl in sweatpants points, unsure if she should intervene.
Work
My coworkers call me 'Excel Ninja' behind my back, not because of my impressive spreadsheet skills, but because I can turn a simple budget report into a work of art with judicious use of colour-coding and fonts. They're probably just messing with me, but every time I see the phrase 'Budget Update' in 72-point Arial bold, I feel a rush of pride and power.
Drinking & Parties
Sporadic bursts of laughter punctuated the room's thick silence like fireworks in a thunderstorm. It was probably the third or fourth time I'd spilled my drink, but nobody seemed to care – mostly because they were too preoccupied with trying to get the DJ to play their favourite song.
School
Sometimes when I'm walking to first-period class, I find myself lingering beneath my favorite tree where its gnarled roots push up through the pavement like ancient fingers. It's an odd place to pause, especially for one so habitually punctual, yet it holds me captive in a moment before the chaos.
Drinking & Parties
The fog from my forgotten whiskey hangs over the dance floor like a bad smell. I weave past strangers' shoulders, eyes watering from the smoke and cheap cologne.
Food & Dining
My aunt accidentally set off the fire alarm while trying to deep fry a dehydrated onion ring. We all had to evacuate, and as we stood outside, I realized I had eaten my last three dollar dinner on that very kitchen table.
Public Places
As a stranger, you don't usually see the little things about a place, like the way its tiles are unevenly aligned or the flickering fluorescent lights that seem to mock the idea of 'daylight saving'. But I noticed them all when I spent a weekend sleeping on benches here, at this station nobody calls home.
First Times
There were precisely three minutes and thirty-two seconds left on my parking meter when I realized I'd locked my keys in the car - on a day when the sky had decided to release what felt like the entirety of its accumulated rain since forever - and the parking officer looked exactly how one would expect a middle-aged man in a yellow jacket to look: skeptical. The smell of stale bread wafted from the nearby café as the owner's cat watched me with an interest akin to a spectator at a tennis match - my futile efforts to coax a glimmer of pity from him only made it worse.
Public Places
My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as I awkwardly juggled a wad of tickets, a thermos, and my backpack in line for the Ferris wheel. I was desperate for a birthday pic to post, not for my social media following's sake, but because last year's embarrassing attempt looked suspiciously like a middle school yearbook photo from an inbred relative.