by Kyrian Lyndon


might have been a glorious beach day.

larks looked happy among the plum and bayberry shrubs, yellow sunflowers, and
purple roses. The blue waters of the Long Island Sound were as beguiling as the
landscape. Young men were perched on railings that glistened under the glare of
the sun—ogling, whistling, and confessing their undying love. I witnessed this
phenomenon whenever I walked to and from the bus stop in my school uniform, and
came to realize I could easily disrupt traffic and possibly cause a collision.

had never achieved a placid familiarity with the horn-honking and people
clamoring for my attention. I had spent many years feeling like the ugly
duckling muddling haplessly through the dark green marsh. If I had advanced
from there at all, it was to become the tiniest winged critter, never able to
keep up with the flock…

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