Seven Days in June

by Tia Williams

Shane tricked his readers into seeing humanity, not circumstance.

It was impossible to get too comfortable in a place that kept reminding you it wasn’t yours.

“The truth is I…I have an invisible disability.” “A what?” asked Ebony. “A disability. My head is fucking exploding, and it’s so bad that, Ebony, your nose is melting into your face and I’m concerned that I might vomit on my borrowed Alexander McQueen.

The edges of my vision are starting to fray and curl, like paper on fire. Can you imagine? When I was little, I thought it happened to everyone. I described it to my second-grade teacher once, and she thought my mom was giving me LSD.

Eva’s words were slurring; her vision was blurring—but my God, was she exhilarated. Just by that one small (huge) admission! She felt unburdened, unshackled.