We invited you to look back at 2021 and tell a true story from your year in 21 words or fewer.
Here we present the winners and finalists:
My husband is sliding off his gender, silky as a necktie or skirt, a housebound transition eclipsing a pandemic.
"Shrimp chips," my mother said in Chinese, before finally closing her eyes. I never had a chance to get her some.
Ellicott City, Maryland
I met my neighbor’s two cows who roam his front yard. “We won’t eat them,” he said. I hadn’t even asked.
Smelling everything. Just to make sure.
Fast food crew; I’m new. Customers avoid my eyes like runaway brides. Or worse, rage about the wait like stood-up grooms.
We say goodbye, expressing our love, not wanting it to end, but too cheap to buy the extended video chat plan.
Two shots in, I felt like a superhero. I flew to Ecuador, rappelled waterfalls, and climbed a volcano. Fuck you, COVID.
Fleischmanns, New York
Around midnight we threw Jim into the sea. The wind blew him back over us. Bonnie laughed and took the bottle.
Princeton, New Jersey