Sirens & Muses

by Antonia Angress

trying to draw the view across the street—the dip and rise of the roofline, the crouching water towers, their wooden ribbing stained greenish black—she thought about the details of this view that she had yet to notice, that would reveal themselves to her over time, replicating themselves in her hand, taking their place in her catalog of the world.

Men shouldn’t be allowed to get old and successful. One or the other, fine—but not both.

kept saying yes, kept putting on heels

and lipstick and standing in the corner drinking too much wine, kept looking out at crowds of terrifyingly beautiful people, kept wondering, What is the difference between me and them, where is the bridge I need to cross to get from here to there?

The moment before something terrible happens. The loneliness of being alone in that moment.