Short fiction: “Buried Girl Transmission №2”
I would love to know why certain short stretches in a person’s youth loom larger and more vibrantly over the rest of their days compared to later periods that are more eventful, dramatic, or meaningful. Why are some fleeting moments, though taken for granted at the time, remembered later on as an improbable flower that never stops blooming, even though life at the time had felt like a desert, or even an endless…