By Frankie Thomas

Frankie Thomas is the author of "The Showrunner," which received special mention in the 2013 Pushcart Prize Anthology, and "Equinox," which appeared on The Toast. Her fiction has also been published in H.O.W. Journal, Pear Noir, and BLOOM; her nonfiction has appeared on The Hairpin. She lives in Manhattan with two parakeets and the best dog ever.

  1. Before We Had Mirrors

    We looked for ourselves
    beneath the clouded surfaces
    of everything, back then.

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  2. Part II of a two-part series. Part I can be found here. Except sometimes, lately—like tonight, with Pearls squirming underneath you, tears streaming sideways down her face and into her flushing ears as she whimpers against the palm of your hand—the word creeps up the back of your throat, and you have to choke it back with something else, something to remind both of you who’s in charge here. So you backhand her hard…

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  3. Part One of a two-part series. 1. Winter Solstice So you’re this person in a park. Can that be all, for now? People are always trying to figure out what kind of person you are, like you’re not a real person until they know how long you’ve been alive and where your parents are and your name, no, your real name, and whatever the fuck is between your legs. Why can’t you just be a…

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