I’m under the mistaken impression that they have an appointment to see a doctor at 9:30. Apparently so do the 50 other people in the waiting room. At the desk, K points to a clipboard and hands me a pen. So I sign his children in, as I’ve signed my own in at so many… Read More Home


In the distance of 5 miles. In the space of thirteen minutes. We are about to do the impossible — reunite four people who never thought they’d see each other again. As we turn onto a street lined with split-levels, I can hear Rs bracelets jangling from the back seat. She is twisting her hands. My GPS… Read More Luck


K’s Facebook feed is screaming, that is when it’s not crying. It’s angry. It’s sad. It’s depressed. The malaise started a few days ago when K changed his profile pic from a bouquet of Hydrangea — blue and green globes of pastel tranquility — to a man in a hoodie holding his hand over his face. Then came the… Read More Zaalan