short fiction story: im sitting in a cafe and my coffee cup looks depressed.

I raised a coffee cup to my mouth but when I sipped, a blue bird flew out. Its feathers rang songs of the sea as it flew--a smell of sea salt and cigarette ash swam in the air. For years since we stopped having our morning coffee, all I could see was blue. The world …

first week of college from an autistic

  "the peopled world was a constant clash." is a quote that repeats on a mix tape in my mind. how is it that the entire universe, the way the trees sway with the wind, the way the fox chases the rabbit, how street lights brighten under dark skies--it all makes an overwhelming amount of …