From “The Stuntman’s Daughter” by Alice Blanchard


"We passed the joint around, and as it got easier to inhale, I started noticing how the leaves seemed to be falling in slow-motion from the trees. I laughed with my mouth full of smoke. I got all caught up in the way my dark hair rested against my shoulder, like a photographic negative of snow blowing through an open door. My eyes fixed on my friend’s necklace, something I hadn’t noticed before—a tiny gold chain with a gold word at the base of her neck. Aires, gold lassoes for letters, riding her pulse. My thoughts felt about thumb-sized."