Author: Dani Castonzo

doors closing

The opportunity for heroism had passed. The conductor had thrown the emergency brake, bringing the train to a halting stop, but not fast enough. The man who had been beside her, hunched over his laptop, reached out only after he’d heard the scream. No one in the crowded L stop had moved a muscle, and now, she was under the…

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city seasons

If I don’t have you, at least I have the city. Cheering me on when I just barely make the train. Humming along as I sing on a crowded downtown street, thousands of people and not one listening. Sending beautiful city miracles: three walk signs when I’m late for work, a reasonably priced falafel in a gentrifying neighborhood, lingering eye…

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walking tour

Your ex has her nipples pierced, and I am the kind of girl who only talks about getting her nipples pierced. So I wake up, hungover and sleepy, and I dare myself to walk 20 miles. I pack the essentials: notebooks, pen, chorizo, backup pen, a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, slightly old cheese, sunscreen, ointment for the road rash on my…

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september sadness

The Amtrak 370 won’t get you there on time but maybe you’ll get the seat to yourself. Guided by the lake, the dunes, the leaves just on the verge of yellowing but summer’s not gone yet. Two girls in white gowns watching from the church’s open mouth, fireworks for sale, Cindy or Mary or Luna’s Diner with the windowful of…

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words to feel better

you have already made thousands of people smile. you have told jokes no one else will ever think of. only you will write the words that whisper in your head, only you will be your mother’s first daughter. you have already changed the world and there’s no going back. you can’t do everything but you can call your best friend…

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