Ruth, Making Memories
The butterfly alights gently on Ruth’s hand. She sees her granddaughter’s eyes widen and thinks how brief such moments are—how quickly a child’s gaze can shift from wonder to distraction.
Maeve, The Game
I lie still beneath the autumn leaves as their edges poke my chin. Their golden-brown cover muffles the distant voices.
Roland, Asks Nothing
Gravel and leaves shift beneath his feet. The forest asks nothing of him—no decision, no answer. It simply lets him be.
Lisette, What it Cost
The chair’s cold metal presses into my back as I drop my gaze, hiding the exhaustion in my eyes.
Natalie, Someone New
Natalie used to paint standing, stretching to reach the tops of her canvases. After the chair, she spent a week staring at a blank one.
