Inklings 2020

AFTER THE HURRICANE Zoe San Martin Running my hand across peeling yellow paint, I drift inside of the room I’ve lived in my entire life. Where there once stood a wooden cabinet stuffed full of family photos, now there is a hollow shell. My heart drops as I peel a picture off of the warped floorboards. Through its grainy remains, a five-year-old Zoe flashes her teeth at the camera as her twin sister hugs her. But the longer I hold the photo, the more it falls apart in my hands. I’m no stranger to loss. My grandmother passed away the year before this all happened to pneumonia. Also, my dad nearly became paralyzed last year after a home repair accident shattered one of his vertebrae. Losing my home has flooded my life with a more intense uncertainty. I now know that for months I will have no Crimson at Sunset Kerryn Xu