emily’s Reviews > Whiteout Conditions > Status Update
emily
is on page 108 of 177
‘Being stuck in the same spot turned my stomach. Everyone revisits the old memories, staring at the cold cuts—tuna casserole, mostaccioli—waiting for the food line to dwindle—small talk—as mushroom soup is ladled out—The sour Midwestern accents have deepened—calcified in their throats—What we say never changes—Whether this is sad I can’t say—but it endears me to this messy band—for a moment—&—I take off by instinct.’
— Jun 25, 2026 05:44PM
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emily’s Previous Updates
emily
is on page 9 of 177
‘—the odour—maple syrup & gasoline—the exhaust of a couple hundred idling taxicabs. I’ve missed even them. Here the sky yawns white all day, then rips your head off like afterburners once the sun falls off the horizon. But when the cold comes, it comes like a dream, lugging the dark in a big black sack. And my body readjusts to the old song it knows by heart—For a long time I believed her touch cured the migraines.’
— Jun 22, 2026 06:14PM
