With the Fire on High

by Elizabeth Acevedo

I walk back to the bread rolls, which have risen in the oven and filled the kitchen with the warmest smell. I’m creating a menu for hundreds of people. I feel like something has risen inside me, too, and it tastes a bit like hope.

We look beautiful and hood and excited to see the world, and none of us are hiding from this world seeing us. All of us shining despite what it took us to earn our way here.