Ava Hiniker

Time is a funny thing, isn’t it? You spend your whole life counting down your seconds, trudging through that dreaded interview or boring elective course. Then, all of a sudden, the seconds you wished away are ones you would do anything to get back. kAm%:>6’D 2CC@H >2C496D[ 2?5 :E ?6G6C 52H5=6D] %96C6’D ?@E9:?8 =:<6 2 8C25F2E:@? E@ C6>:?5 J@F @7 E92E] xC@?:42==J[ x’> ?@E 6G6? E2=<:?8 23@FE >J @H?]k^Am kAm(96?

There are two articles of clothing currently hanging in my closet. The first is a white slip dress. It is mangled beyond belief by cavernous wrinkles, ones that a bathroom of steaming-hot shower mist will have to fix for me. It daintily flails on its clothing hanger with every gust of indoor air, floating like an angel above the dirty laundry pile I have been neglecting for weeks. kAm%96 D64@?5 :D >J 8C25F2E:@? 8@H?]k^Am kAm(96? =2J6C65 @?

During my first semester of college, I made a habit of sticking tarot cards to my wall. The 3.5-inch-tall clumps of cardstock couldn’t predict my future or magically save me from inevitable heartache, like others may believe they can. What they could do was represent the intangible splendors I wanted my life to include: success, patience, perseverance and good fortune. kAmx DE2CE65 >J 7C6D9>2?