The walls start barren
on both our sides,
so we pin our laughter
in place of posters.
On both our sides
something like a shadow hides
in place of posters
so we don’t see it drain her color.
Something like a shadow hides,
painting her in black and white
in place of all her color.
I talk to air as if it proves she’s there,
(old pipes clatter and fail to answer).
(The imprints of her were)
painted in black and white,
the walls had been left barren.
I still talk to air as if it proves she’s there
and laugh to fill her space.
Covers
Published in Fiction
Katie Monthie ’19 is a senior from Columbia, MD majoring in Psychology and English. In the future, Katie would like to pursue a career in Rhetoric and Composition, ideally researching how people connect to narratives and teaching. In her spare time, she enjoys listening to the same three podcasts, putting off reading, and writing until her hand aches.
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