Author: Gloria Ning

It’s four in the morning and I’ve just woken up in a puddle of my own sweat. The mix matched blankets and naked pillows are strewn all over the bed. This is it, the aftermath of the second dose has finally taken my body and I must bear all the pain and horribleness for the… Continue reading Going, Going, Gone

The hallmark of any ethnic child who grew up in the West, is the infamous smelly lunch your mom packed by accident. Although you love her dumplings, you and her both know they will stink up the entire lunchroom. You give her a list of things that cannot make its way into the building, basically… Continue reading Poop for Lunch

It’s four in the morning and I’ve just woken up in a puddle of my own sweat. The mix matched blankets and naked pillows are strewn all over the bed. This is it, the aftermath of the second dose has finally taken my body and I must bear all the pain and horribleness for the… Continue reading Home

I can see my father through the screen door. It’s dark inside the house, in the summer when there is the sun, lights are a waste of electricity and money. I can only make out his silhouette sitting in his Ikea chair reading a book by the front windows. This is usually how I find… Continue reading Garden Song