The Office of Historical Corrections

by Danielle Evans

sometimes all it took to become something was to want it.

She had built the kind of life that belonged to her and her alone, one she could pick up and take with her as needed, and so there she was in JT’s tiny hotel room, unattached and untethered and unbothered.

“So she could have waited a decade for him to not marry her on their wedding day?”

She thought the insistence on victims without wrongdoers was at the base of the whole American problem, the lie that supported all the others.

Perhaps I’d been Cassandra for some time now, walking around using some bolder girl’s name.

That my country might always expect me to audition for my life I accepted as fact, but I trusted the public charter of national government more than I trusted average white citizens acting unchecked.

sister, because what was a sibling but a person you stayed tied to whether or not you liked them.