Justin Jones

Through These Eyes: Where the Wind Blows

I’m lying under my grandmother’s clothesline, watching the bed sheets overhead billow in the wind. Wafts of Downy fabric softener…

Through These Eyes: Bedroom Eyes

In what was perhaps the best pick-up line I’ve heard in the past six months (coincidentally, the only pick-up line…

Through These Eyes: Cutter

My room doesn’t have the effects of boys’ rooms my age. There are no posters of pretty girls, no baseball…

Through These Eyes: Roommate

An empty lecture hall in the middle of the night. I’m on my back; he’s on top of me. Kissing…

Through These Eyes: Gen Hyper-Selfie

Coca-Cola was an everyday thing and we ate McDonald’s twice a week. We hadn’t heard of gluten and didn’t eat…

Through These Eyes: Everyone Inside

Among stuffed animals and bruised toys, near a wall covered by an “Old McDonald” mural, over a giant rug depicting…

Through These Eyes: Salting Wounds into Demons

No one could see him but me. I was six years old when he chased me. The goblin was a…

Through These Eyes: Cheshire Boy

The Gorgeous Boy has picture-perfect teeth and he picture-perfect smiles. His cheeks rise, his eyes scrunch. His laugh is charming…

Through These Eyes: Sundays After Church

Uncle Bobby, Uncle Johnny, and my father are sitting in my grandparents’ living room watching NASCAR. I don’t understand the…

Through These Eyes: Daddy Issues

Midsummer’s night, 2004. I’m 18. This will be my last year in Fort Lauderdale. I’m with friends at the home…

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