Page 2 - Issue 159 News Today : Breaking News, Live Updates & Top Stories | Vimarsana

—a painting by the British artist J. M. W. Turner.

When Angela cornered Lucy in the girls’ locker room and said, “White girl!” there was a moment when Lucy wanted to tell her how she wasn’t white or black, only the perfect mix of both, which is what her father liked to say. Instead, she turned away as her mother had taught her. Her mother would say, “Don’t fight. Be better than those petty girls, baby.”One of the LaLas, either

The Café Delice menu was just big enough to hide Rosemary’s face if she ducked down. She had made sure to sit with her back to the window, so that the afternoon sun fell directly on her quarry: the late middle-aged couple sitting two tables in front of her.

There’s something in the woods behind the house. Laura can hear it through the open window underneath the patter of rain as she nurses the baby. The thud of paws against the ground. The rush of breath as it snuffles, searching for food. Third night in a row. Each night, the something hunts along the same path between the palm trees and the fence line near her bedroom window.

the greyhound, caught in their infinite chase through the shaded vaults— when we, too, rise I am mad with desire. For what? Today, I collapsed at the endless hem of His great robes— and prayed, but could only find myself repeating Let me do better, Let me be with You, Let me do better by You, and When I left, I saw those sallow panels of the West Window, finally, for their dim bone-whiteness, an angel descended and, one by one, kissed my many eyes.