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Cincinnati, Ohio

  • Writer: Kate Bender
    Kate Bender
  • Jul 17, 2025
  • 1 min read

Journal Entry – April 6, 1871

Cincinnati, Ohio


The Ohio River was gray this morning. Wide, slow, and cold—like the eyes of every man who’s stared a little too long since we left Boston.


Cincinnati’s louder than I expected. The station buzzes with restless men in hats and women holding secrets in their gloves. Ma sat beside me on a bench, quietly flipping through her German Bible, though I don’t think she read a word. Her lips moved like she was praying—but Ma only prays when there’s something to regret.


We stayed in the station café just long enough for the coffee to go cold. A preacher passed through, handing out tracts and promises. He paused at our table, said I had a “wounded soul.” I smiled and told him I’d learn to live with it.


He moved on quickly.


The papers are still out there. I’ve seen glances, whispers, headlines curled under arms. I keep my sleeves down, my eyes soft, my blade tucked deep.

But I can feel the storm moving behind us.

And I’m beginning to wonder if I’m the one bringing it.


— K


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