Inspired by “St. Catherine of Alexandria Council to her Tomb by Angels” A body of a woman rests, ashen and pale. A body of a woman is raved by an internal culprit with her faint silver-green skin. Her eyes closed shut from the pain. Her arms are crossed with her hands clutching the ivory-white cloth, enwrapping her feeble body. Her once vigorous soul lies languid now, eroding away from the insidious criminal in a deliberately sadistic manner. A somber red-violet blanket stre

Coffee grinds in every apron pocket, probably forty iced coffees per day, and too many complaints about our paper straws. College professors staying awake on americanos, psychology majors asking if they can get refills on oat milk chai lattes, and the occasional high schooler ordering a frappuccino. I consider the Starbucks I work at to be relatively normal for a college campus hotspot. Although annoying, continuous crowds of students can have their perks. The unusual convers

I walked briskly down the street, the pale gray pavement cowering under the sun. My voice is cheerful, my posture strong. My coffee brown hair was slicked tightly back, sharp like the sting of caffeine. My shapeless black pants fit to my legs, and a flowing sweater follows my every move, mimicking me just as my shadow does as we stride in unison. I walk as though I have somewhere to be; I have nowhere to be. My voice rings clear in the open air. It was mine, but the words I s