A New Kind of Literary Pulse

There's a scene that comes to mind when I'm on the train. 
It's a blurry haven of spring weather, and I'm walking down the cobbled pavement with wired earphones blasting my usual mix. Step by ...  [+]

  The last time Mei* called me Jie Jie* was when she was still struggling to form words. I held on to that memory like how a mother holds onto her baby's milk tooth. There she was, perched on the top ...  [+]