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A Glimmer

This week, our writers draw inspiration from little glimmers they see in their everyday lives! If you are interested in joining our team as a member or ambassador, please feel free to contact or dm us over Instagram @theoutlet.inspire!


By: Luce Cada

I always thought we would be best friends. You know the story: met as children, grew up together, fought our battles together, us against the world. 

Of course, some of that changed when we were placed in different schools because I moved houses. 

It wasn't even that far from my old house, my old district. But because of the location, I was transferred to a different high school. 

We still talked, of course. As more independent people, we could bike to each other's houses and plan meetups at our usual spots. 

Until I realized that, when I was away from her, I was different. 

I thought it would be the other way around. Maybe it would be if I were standing in her shoes, but being around her was different than being around all these new people. And it was a bad kind of different. 

When I was around her, I was quiet. But when I was around my new friends, I was loud. I wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with her, but it was easier to be me when I was with the others. 

That was the first time I realized how much she controlled me. 

"You're still going to do soccer, right? That way, we can still compete against each other in games," she said as we walked around my room. 

The deadline had already passed for soccer tryouts. I had decided I wanted to stop doing it this year and do hockey instead. Plus, the school I was at was known for hockey instead of soccer. 

My silence was making her antsy. “You did, right?” 

I looked over at her and finally shook my head. “No.” 

Her face fell. “Well, you still have time, right?” 

I shook my head again. 

When her face hardened, I knew this would be difficult. But I had expected it. 

“Why didn’t you sign up?” she said, her voice cold. It shocked me to hear her voice like that. 

“I wanted to do hockey.” 

She stood against the wall, unmoving. “Is that it? Or do you not want to see me anymore?” 

“I never said that.” 

She paused, and then picked up the picture on my nightstand of the two of us. We were eight then, happy and not caring about anything else together. Smiling without a care in the world. She traced our faces, and then said, “You implied it.” 

A part of me knew she was right but the other part of me didn’t want to lose this friendship. But I had nothing to say. 

After a few more minutes of quiet arguing so my parents wouldn’t come in, she dropped the picture onto the nightstand and walked out. 

She was so petty like that. But at the same time, there were lies told from both ends. So there was some good and bad reasons for this. 

She had clenched the picture frame so hard that the glass was fractured. She must have been that angry, while I was as calm as a lamb. 

As I looked down and the broken glass glinted in my eyes, I knew that would be the last time I ever saw her. 

Trophy Wall

by: Austina Xu

She has black, orange, and blue wings, 

a metallic sheen 

that reflects the light streaming from my windows and lamps 

so perfectly

And her skeleton would sit 

so beautifully next to this one. 

Or perhaps that one. 

Yes, next to her sister, 

lying in a wooden frame in mid-flight. 

The perfect addition to my trophy wall.

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