• Elliana Reynolds

    dear first years,

    advice from two graduating seniors

    February 5, 2021
    article by , , illustrated by

    You know, you could ask your Meik some of these questions, but that requires effort, which is in pretty short supply right now among all of us. Luckily for you, as we’ve gradually become frail elderly senior(citizen)s, we’ve become more happy to share our knowledge, and much less happy to do our readings. Here is […]

    people, places, and things

    what are we thankful for in 2020?

    November 20, 2020
    article by , , , , illustrated by

    Things: In a year spent motion sick, it’s the things I could grip onto. A pencil, at first, tucked in a new notebook, sheathed in black matte leather. For thoughts and their consequences, words. The hard spine of On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. A story that, for the first time, invited me to join it […]

    wish you were here

    a love letter to pen pals

    November 13, 2020
    article by , illustrated by

    “Un francobollo, per favore?”   The employee at the tabbachino was unimpressed, sliding a packet of stamps in my direction. In English: “here you go.” Almost three years of learning Italian and the try-hard air of an American accent suffocating my pronunciation gave it away.   Regardless, I left with stamps, which was the goal. […]

    for the first time

    trusting myself after cheating

    October 22, 2020
    article by , illustrated by

    When I cheated, when I lay next to someone else, all I could think about was my partner and how much hurt he would feel when he found out. In the moment, I didn’t think of myself or my present guilt, I didn’t think of the person lying behind me, hand on my hip, or […]

    one face, two face, three

    on the loneliness of remembering people

    October 15, 2020
    article by , illustrated by

    I have always been good at putting faces and names together after meeting someone, even if it was only for a moment. Sometimes, I only have to see their face on Instagram for them to be forever etched into my brain—I have no clue how they sound, how they move, how they laugh: all I […]