Lori A. A.
Bio
Psychological analysis | Identity & human behavior | Reflection over sensationalism
Achievements (1)
Stories (81)
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ELIAS!
At eighty, Elias discovered that silence weighs heavily sometimes. It weighs on the chest. It fills every room. It lingers long after footsteps should have come back. Silence, he realized too late, isn’t just the absence of sound. It is everything that never returned.
By Lori A. A.20 days ago in Fiction
The Rules That Kept the House Quiet
I didn’t know about the rules at first. I only noticed that she moved through motherhood like someone walking across ice: slow, deliberate, always listening for cracks. She was careful, but it didn’t look gentle. Her carefulness felt more like holding something in.
By Lori A. A.about a month ago in Fiction
3:17 A.M.
No one noticed the pattern at first. People rarely question a notification that wakes them in the middle of the night. They swipe, squint at the screen, maybe curse softly, then roll over and forget. That’s what made it work. That’s why it spread so quickly.
By Lori A. A.2 months ago in Fiction
Draft with Revisions
My father told me what life was. You go to school. You get a job. You earn money. You retire. My father didn’t offer this as advice, no. He described it as routine, a set way of doing things that had worked before. Years of hardship, repetition, and caution shaped this path. There was no room for discussion. I never questioned it because that seemed pointless, even wasteful, and waste was not allowed in that system.
By Lori A. A.2 months ago in Fiction
Seeing life through eyes we’re taught to ignore
When I first looked at this image, it didn’t seem remarkable. A father is in a small wooden boat, fishing. The water is calm. His children sit closely behind him, watching his every move. One of them says, with quiet confidence, “Dad is trying to get us food.”
By Lori A. A.2 months ago in Humans
When Work Stops Defining Us
For most of my life, work felt like an anchor — not just something I did to earn money, but something that explained me. It gave shape to my days, language to my introductions, and reassurance that I was moving in the “right” direction. When someone asked, “What do you do?” I knew how to answer. And in answering, I felt seen.
By Lori A. A.2 months ago in Futurism
