i just sat in this dark parking lot the last parent left hours ago i’m too tired to move my hands are still gripping the steering wheel a phantom ache from squeezing it all day trying to keep it together trying to smile they talk about their children like they’re little extensions of themselves like tiny blank slates i should be filling with THEIR expectations of greatness and my people my parents taught me to listen to respect my elders to not make a fuss so i just sat there i just listened and i nodded and i wrote down their demands like a good little immigrant teacher should i came here to teach their children what it means to be good people to read to write to think to question and all they want is for me to make their children into perfect little copies of themselves it’s exhausting i just want to go home and sleep and not dream of tiny perfect children or their demanding perfect parents or the life my parents expected me to live here in this new place i just want to be quiet