The Forest of Me Garima Chhikara __________ Just like that, my body hair became thorns. I stopped shaving—arms, underarms, legs, even my upper lip—and abandoned threading my eyebrows, which need tending to resemble eyebrows at all. In the first few weeks, my hair was like grass that tickled my partner’s…

The Ghost of Proust in Mom’s Room Mileva Anasatasiadou __________ Proust doesn’t talk but he’s taking notes. He stares at Mom like she owns wisdom, and I stare at him, like he can teach me. He once had it all, then lost everything, then spent his days chasing after whatever…