By Wyley Fröhlich Jungerman

I looked at the color green today, but something was different. All I could see was yellow and blue, the two colors blended, not merged; a mixture, not a compound. It reassured me that I was right. An irreplaceable piece had separated from the whole, and now the rest was falling apart like the seam of a coat. My mom and dad’s genes were unwinding inside me, corpus callosotomy of my chromosomes, hemispherectomy to this cobbled-togetherness I called Self.

Finally, I thought with satisfaction. I’ve become bits and pieces again.

                                                             *.   *   *

Wyley Fröhlich Jungerman is pursuing a BA in English at Texas State University. Born and raised in the Austin area, Jungerman draws inspiration from the vibrant culture of his city and the connections that shape his life. His work has appeared in 101 Words, The Solitude Diaries, JAKE: the Anti-Literary Magazine and others. His work is forthcoming in IHRAM Publishes and Ink in Thirds.