MEMORY AS A
MINIATURE

Abby
Romine

I think they get so hot from holding things
too tightly. Every minute felt like an hour. Every minute that goes by making up for a karmic death of selfishness. Every minute is like an hour and now I think having allergies is my entire personality. It was only 7:39pm and I kept asking,

“Feel her hands. Her hands are always on fire and now they’re cold and clammy.”

“Do my cheeks feel hot?”

They didn’t.

It’d been 6 minutes, but in here, in my body, it felt so
long. It was only 7:28, but it felt like hours or ours––I don’t remember which one. It was only 8. I got it. Why did I want to guess time? Why was that fun for me? I think I’m trying to make time miniature so I can hold it tight. I wanted someone to hold me like time.