sphaira

On the day Sphaira didn’t love me anymore, she said, “Delta, I don’t love you anymore” and she went towards the vanishing point. I walked after her but she kept shrinking and shrinking. I stopped at a diner, blackened my insides with coffee, and told the waitress my destination. Her eyebrows became mountains and she said no foregrounders ever made it there. And I said I wasn’t just some random object; I was equilateral on my good days. She said I lacked depth. I gave her a lousy tip.

An hour later, I sat on a bench watching the sun go down. Sphaira was now a speck, rolling and rolling like I could never do. My insides curled however — I could do that — and I threw up coffee and walked home scalene, uneven, kicking asphalt. The next day, I went to the desert with some friends. We made pyramids, following our angles, connecting at vertices Sphaira never quite understood.

{flash fiction ~ Tommy Tung}
{photography ~ Giovanni Orlando}