Stuck

He collects stamps because that’s the closest he’ll ever get to traveling the world, these little pieces of paper that have crossed oceans and traversed mountains while he’s stuck walking along the same cracked streets, sun to moon. His mother once crossed an ocean to get here, from a place he’ll never see, home to cousins he’ll never meet. Thailand exists only as an idea, a space in his mind where everything tastes of sweet rambutan instead of the salt of his sweat. He was warned, though – they call it the American dream, and everyone knows dreams aren’t real.