Gone Again

by Minka Kent

I stare at the miniature bronze figure—wondering how a depiction of someone being gruesomely murdered thousands of years ago is supposed to make us feel safe, give us hope, and remind us that every hardship we experience will be worth it in the end.

My anxieties rotate on a never-ending carousel. For as long as I can remember, an unsettled sensation has resided in the pit of my stomach, though sometimes it takes up occupancy in my chest, and other times it loiters in my head.