By Patrik Moltzen
Fallen leaves crunched under a blue stroller. In it rested a one-year-old child. Sunlight seeped through the gaps in the canopy of leaves.
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By Tak Woo
I was taking a walk in the park when I saw him. I had run out of ideas of what to write for my upcoming poem due in 2 days for a submission to the New Yorker magazine,
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By Kexin Qiu
You and I are in a sterile white room, empty except the two of us. The ceiling is tall, and the room is wide.
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By Sophie Zhang
There is a grey room with grey walls and grey curtains. Mint green, but grey all the same. Grey with excessive sweat, grime, and taints from all over.
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