Today my name is Catherine. I borrow the name at a coffee shop and lounge with it on the beach. Catherine, scrawled in sharpie across my paper cup, branding me a new woman. I take a sip of a latte I never liked as I stare out at the sea, burgundy-painted toes licking wet sand, crushed velvet mountains underfoot. I pull my sunglasses over my eyes, rogue bangs springing forth, as I catch the iron-on patch of a familiar cartoon rocket ship on the guy’s sleeve next to me. Does he see a Catherine?
Lauren Haynes
Bowling Green