time machines are everywhere, if you look close enough.
on something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue (and how rewatching a childhood show can resolve your daddy issues)
the scent of bricks in my pre-school’s computer lab still cements itself to my nostrils. i remember the ancient desktop’s hypnosis and the lazy daddy-longlegs sleeping under the fire alarm. if i close my eyes, a projection of a room twirls like a ballerina– a room respite from hallways of glue, a mean ms. hamilton, and bible verses i could not memorize.…