There was something extra-terrestrial about the blue in his veins and the unsymmetrical bruising of his hand. As a child it made me squeamish, awaiting his papery skin to pucker above the cobalt seams and sprout an inky blue that would stain our hands. As the years stubbed out the futuristic blue of his bloodContinue reading “2nd Place: ‘When The Mugs Don’t Match’ by Abbie White”
Sonder Magazine: Supporting New Voices