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Dichotomy

Updated: Nov 23, 2021


Artwork by Aldwin Li, staff artist

I sit next to my father at the airport,

an empty seat separates us.


I ask him again to clarify what he means

when he says that about those people.


The inquiry hangs in the air like a wavering

speck of dust, floating away slowly


toward oblivion. He catches it, and utters words

that can only be described as


“That’s racist,” I say. Brief but infinite

silence is filled immediately by noises of rolling luggage.


His eyes lock into mine. They tell the whole story.

“Let’s not talk about this,” he says quietly. So I look away.


The chasm widens.


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