Generation Gap

An elephant and a donkey sitting at opposite ends of a table
Art by Kirsten Hemrich

My dad is sitting across from me eating Eggos. He doesn’t eat them gracefully. They are stuffed into his mouth, loudly chewed, sugars clinging onto fat as they enter his bloodstream. I imagine my dad’s body is made of all the unhealthy things: corn syrup, GMO’s, candy bars. He’s had cancer already, but it’s no fault of ambiguous FDA regulations or the orange soda he sips casually as he watches Fox & Friends. “It’s inevitable,” he says.


Gray rain clouds with an off white background
Art by Kirsten Hemrich

Her veil: blush, pearl-spotted.

Lashes: heavy (fake), coming undone.

The pale gap above her eye. Rani, half-past-nineteen.


It is a Tuesday, raining. I wait with her in a much-loved family minivan.

The heat slips down my neck and her baby sister’s

I Suck at Self-Care

Green face mask in an orange background
Art by Kirsten Hemrich

I completely suck at self-care. And not in a cutesy, humblebrag way or in a self-deprecating way. We just do not get along. It’s to the point where I hear someone exhort the importance of self-care along with suggestions of meditations or face masks, and I roll my eyes to the back of my skull so hard they may pop out from their sockets. My mom is probably forwarding a Tiny Buddha email to me right now, and I’m already moving it to my trash folder without reading it.


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