I walked down a back alley and got caught up in a hipster party. Someone dumped an avalanche of dried apricots on the charcuterie table. A woman suggested that I sit in a cabana and try on a maroon velvet turban. Several tween bodyguards fidgeted in their skinny jeans and adjusted their sunglasses. I’m covered in glitter stars and all I can think about is essential oils and rattan. Was that an initiation ceremony? Am I one of them now?
My name is Nasreen. I write micro essays, one-liners, and other small things. Most of them were funny at some point, at least to me.