Joan Yvaine Hargrave's Collection

Archive

Brynn
24 March, 2026 · 301 words "At this time?"

Tonya
24 March, 2026 · 156 words “Why?”

Yvonne
24 March, 2026 · 167 words It was perfect. Or at least familiar.

Andie
25 March, 2026 · 258 words It wasn’t dark, per se.

Doyle
25 March, 2026 · 295 words Nothing felt fresh. Rehearsed.

Here, Now
27 March, 2026 · 234 words He got me flowers.

Mike
27 March, 2026 · 429 words I thought it would hurt to say.

Conversation Nonetheless
28 March, 2026 · 308 words Not the conversation I’d have chosen, but a conversation nonetheless.

Clara
29 March, 2026 · 314 words “They give you all your stuff after,”

Leanne
31 March, 2026 · 416 words It must’ve been Wednesday. I knew because I’d slept six times since we last spoke.

Like a Train
31 March, 2026 · 303 words A week and a half of walking by those tracks with her.

Between Stops
2 April, 2026 · 395 words My eyes met an elderly woman.

Half a Chair
2 April, 2026 · 343 words As though even half a chair was more than enough for him.

Not Quite a Lake
2 April, 2026 · 342 words It did not seem right to call it a lake.

What Stays
3 April, 2026 · 535 words [...] nothing could save one from the itch.

Lemon Chicken
8 April, 2026 · 318 words I also had not realized that I was tearing up.

Where It Comes From
13 April, 2026 · 320 words That these events and my disappointment are born of the same mother.

Green
25 April, 2026 · 157 words I have grown older, and since then I have found it hard to cry at much of anything.

Sienna
28 April, 2026 · 387 words Enough time had passed for me to know what to say.

Apart From The Times I Do
10 May, 2026 · 221 words I do not wish to grow old. Alone.

Past The Webcam
11 May, 2026 · 436 words [...] his left eye—no left for me, so his right eye—twitches.

The One After That
3 June, 2026 · 358 words [...] Naja kicked rocks all the way to the car.

Every Bit As Much
4 June, 2026 · 112 words [...] today feels every bit as much as last month.

Where It Lies
22 June, 2026 · 179 words In practice, it just means the empty canvas is smaller.

Am I Mine?
22 August, 2026 · 180 words And on certain days, my face is but a blur in my peripheral vision.

Fish
22 August, 2026 · 557 words Those stories. Stories I only remember the endings to.

As Little As Possible
23 August, 2026 · 107 words Making the absolute least of each day.

After-Hours
24 August, 2026 · 453 words She gave mine to me with a toothy smile.

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Some of my stories have been lightly revised. If you'd like see me at my worst, my initial stories are all up on my Tumblr