A Way No Longer Had
by Jessica Newman

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London grew impossible. Its turns forgot themselves, took new direction. Cobblestones loosened like teeth. The dim became permanent, the kind of dim in which everything takes a shape slightly different from its own.

A girl, to navigate the streets, sewed her fingers into sails. She landed on outcroppings, things of metal and stone. She learned to balance in the wind, to catch it in her cheeks. On the ground, she found corners away from doors and windows. There she repaired her hands, squinting. She used the smallest stitches.