by Sienna Liu
I had been avoiding a man for years and years. One day on a street in Paris I saw him again, walking towards me. He pointed a pistol to my forehead and said, this is your bullet. The second he was about to pull the trigger he aged terribly with scars and furrows all over his face and he said, see, no matter how many years you wait. This is still your bullet.
chance encounter no.2
Walking down the aisles, one by one, in a crowded supermarket, I was tirelessly asking the other shoppers to look at me. Please look at me. Look at me. Finally, on a Thursday afternoon, I ran into you. You came empty-handed and didn’t show up with anyone else. Hello, I said, long time no see. Please take a look at me and tell me I haven’t expired yet. To which you just shook your head, smiling, apologetically. It’s a pity that your reactions were always out of my control.
Sienna Liu is a writer of prose and poetry based in London. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cotton Xenomorph, A Velvet Giant, HAD, Lit 202, Occulum, among others. Her debut poetry chapbook Square was recently published by Black Sunflowers Poetry Press. She sometimes tweets @siennaxliu.