Aiamai

Chia opened the door to the server room, stacks upon stacks of electrical circuits, humming as they directed users to their virtual destinations. Chia unlocked her device and opened the application with a small black square, titled G-2582-MGF. It opened and immediately connected to the servers usb drives using an electrical pulse. Lo watched silently but was taken aback. She watched as the girl tapped on her screen and finally spoke up. “Isn’t that borderline illegal?” she said pointedly. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the police officer.” “It wasn’t a question.” “Oh

       Lo looked up at the castle complex, it’s spires thrusting up into the sky, its wide berth stretching to either side. Its blue-gray frame contrasted its blacked out windows that reflected the wide street running along its side. She walked through the revolving doors, the hilt of her guns bumping against her thighs as they swung from her belt. The windows of the doors were blackened too, and there was a split second of darkness engulfing her before she swiveled into a large, pristine white lobby. No one was there, and she tapped her fingers across the help desk she leaned on while she waited for someone to arrive. She glanced aroun

    *Two months earlier*    Feliciano walked down the cobblestone streets, a bounce in his step and his basket full of sweets swinging from his arm. He looked up at the sky, a deepening navy blue translucent with light, pink streaks like fire near the horizon just barely above the rooftops.    Barely anyone was in the street, so he decided to let his hood down-- no harm in that with so few people around, right? The soft cool breeze ran through his hair, and Feliciano felt freer than he had all day. He was only a few minutes away from the wall that separated his country from this one, and then he was truly home free-- or at least as free as

Esta realidad oscura como una nubia. Tan diferencia; algo perdido de mi niñez cuando estaba cómoda en mi cuerpo, y mi mente, y mi realidad lucida, sin complicaciones, sin dolor. (This dark reality like a fog, what a difference; something lost from my childhood when I was sure of my body, of my mind and my lucid reality, without complications, without pain.)

On Valentine’s Day the ache, the pain, the anger, the notebook I wanted to burn, the tears streaming down my face. The ache, the pain, the anger, there was no pink; only red and black and blue and grey, the tears streaming down my face. I walked in with thick eyeliner; but out with none that day. There was no pink; I only saw red and black and blue and grey stuck between self righteousness and dismay. I walked in with thick eyeliner; but out with none that day, and I was crying; nobody knew why I was crying. Stuck between self righteousness and dismay with envy watching everyone else show their peacock feathers off while I was crying