The Heartbreak Bakery

by A.R. Capetta

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, every picnic I’ve been on has

felt like a high-stakes situation involving me making lots of food with the likelihood that the entire outing will be ruined by some unforeseen factor. Convincing them was exactly like a picnic.

I give an oversized nod, which turns out to be a good way to keep tears inside someone’s face.

Harley and I exchange the exploding fist bump of two people who are taking care of their mental health.

The outfits in this room are an art form in themselves. Whole eras of American culture have been deconstructed, ripped apart, and torn wider until there’s room for us.

I grow sharp edges where I didn’t think I had any.