1.
He is only 22—he still has baby fat around his cheeks—but a slipped disc in his back makes him incapable of moving himself in.
You spend ten minutes hauling his mattress and a couple suitcases up the stairs. We have three other roommates, you tell him. Have them help you with the rest. The rest, he repeats, and you look out at the front porch. Oh, you say. Cool. Then we’re done here.
He sends a message to the house: can somebody take me to Walmart?
Everyone’s busy. You send him the...
I only picked up because my mother never called me.
“Kopal, you’ve upset your sister,” she said.
“Don’t be stupid.” I told myself I meant to say silly. I could see the sun like a hole over the eastern edge of Koramangala, the streets already busy with people and vehicles and smells, sweat, diesel, the burnt milk scent from the tea cart stationed too close to the ashram’s entrance. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Rupa told me...
When Chloe called me in the car that Wednesday on the way to Costco, my boyfriend Damian and I were arguing about whether or not we would be willing to swallow a goldfish for money. “You have no concept of how the real world works,” he said. “That’s pretty fucking pejorative,” I was saying, as my phone lit up with that stupid picture of Chloe’s stupid face, filtered to have giant eyes and little...
