Prisha Anne Mehta
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“I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word.
Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
”


​- Emily Dickinson

Excerpt from The Desk (Published in Kairos 2018)

4/21/2019

 
The white paint has been peeling ever since she layered it on, and it clings to her palm when she brushes against it. She doesn’t mind it; she likes to think of the small white flakes as lost thoughts, snatched up in the elusive tide of memory.      
But when the afternoon sun streams in through the window, it’s not the paint that it catches, but the solid oak underneath, and she finds herself wishing that she could crawl underneath it again, wrapped in thin sunlight, listening to the sound of her father’s loafers tapping against the floor. Even now, it smells, ever so faintly, of honeysuckle.

Read the full story here.

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    I'm a 19 year old college student in New Haven, Connecticut.

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