Everything changed when we started to role play. I dressed up as sunrise, you the wanderer staring east over the ocean. I reached for you and suddenly was the shoreline, and you donned the leaves of a blue palmetto tree. You dug into the sand, where I was mica, you the glint of light off my belly. The encyclopedia claims you have perfect cleavage, you said, and I became text, you became fact, and our lives began to spiral around each other. Every now and then our shadows meet in passing, like an eclipse reminding the day of the stars.



Rishika Batra spends much of her time writing. Other activities include gazing, meandering, and slumbering.

Photo Credit: Basil & Tracy Brooks




2 Responses to “Mica”

  1. Nicely written, though I belong to those who see that they have never been equals, it is like ‘play-pretend with god’, one will remain the immortal, while the other will always have to live with a more scientific truism about mortality…

  2. Azazel says:

    That is a PROPER 100 word story. Glad to see I’m not the only one that cans see so many sharp edges in the nebulous.

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