“if a writer falls in love with you, you’ll never die.” - mik everett
anthology of a brown female lead
“we write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
my tumblr acct (thepastelpressmachine) houses a lot of my reviews on media that centers south asian characters and narratives, whereas my medium acct contains exclusively works of creative fiction.
written work as of 2025 is centralized here :)
hollow hands
December 23, 2024
The crack of the wooden floorboard behind her preceded a swift twist of Sonam’s body. She had stepped out briefly to sneak her bad habit, one of many things she was pretending to be over by appearing in attendance. Her shoulders sank in defeat at the sight of Logan stepping down and approaching her with hands in pockets and stern mouth unmoving.
He stood beside her, facing ahead, as they both looked out across the Pacific Ocean. The smoke from her cigarette was swept and carried by the gust. She heard him inhale. The sun would be setting soon, and he would have to return to the dance floor.
“Why are you acting like you’re attending a funeral?” he finally asked. Sonam smiled to herself before turning to him.
“Am I not?” she asked him. His face contorted with offense, then settled into acceptance. As she took another puff, she heard him exhale.