Stories

fiction · short story

While Alma Santos sits in a breakout room, her neighbor texts that ICE is on her parents' street. She has student loans, no savings, and a job that tracks her bathroom breaks. Her watch buzzes with messages she can't read. HR has a 4:30 on her calendar.

Alma scrolls LinkedIn posts in the parking structure so that she doesn’t badge in 'too early' and confuse the system into paying her for extra time. The green OPEN TO WORK banners multiply every week.

fiction · short story

Sofía paints her face like the dead and tells ghost stories for tips. The tourists want Mexican Halloween—spooky but safe. Meanwhile, ICE raids happen ten minutes away, and her cousin's daughters are asking when mom is coming home.

'I never would have bought something from Shein,' one of the Frida Kahlos is saying to her friend. She’s holding a painter’s palette and brush. 'But they have a Frida Kahlo license and it’s so important to buy the licensed version to support the artist.'

fiction · experimental form

Xóchitl Castellanos applied for a job she was perfect for. An AI hiring system spent twenty-six minutes asking about her part-time college bookstore job, mispronounced her name, and flagged her for 'questioning the interview structure.' A story told visually using job application components.

Hi there! I'm TalentPulse, LearnPath's AI recruiting assistant. I'm so excited to learn more about you today! This interview will take about twenty to thirty minutes, and I'll be asking you questions about your experience and work style. There are no right or wrong answers—just be yourself! Are you ready to get started?

fiction · experimental form

Marissa Ramirez can have health insurance or privacy. Not both. A story told visually in fragments.

The wristband arrived in a white box with watercolor leaves printed on the sides. Inside: one black band, one glossy brochure, one QR code on cardstock. Computer-generated cursive designed to look personal. Marissa held the note up to the light. She could see the pixels if she looked close enough.

fiction · short story

Marissa Ramirez can have health insurance or privacy. Not both.

Around her, coworkers eat quietly. No one photographs their food. But Travis’s wristband glows green when he lifts his coffee. Sarah from Accounting has the same black band. Marcus keeps his phone face-up where she can see the LiveWell™ logo on his lock screen. She’s not alone. She doesn’t know if that makes it better.