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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 2, June 2015

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Yesha Shah
Surat, Gujarat, India


Would have beens

The pink chiffon of her dress flutters behind her as she leaves home and hurriedly locks the door. Moments later, she clumsily unlocks it and rushes inside. Grabs the pale yellow stick-on “to-do” list from the refrigerator door . . . quills it between her thumb and index finger inside the elevator on her way down before shoving it in her purse. Patches of sunlight and shadow reflect in her glares through the windscreen of the car. Halts at the red signal, the car in front of hers bears the number plate with the registration of his state. A billboard near the parking lot displays someone with the same first name as his . . . Once inside the shopping mall, familiar notes of an old song waft, her song, his song . . . their song. Rummages for her cell phone, muses a while, puts it back and proceeds.

linea nigra—
she darkens the kohl rim
around her eyes

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end

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