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In the morning Tom contemplated leaving the crash site. He looked over at the mound where he had buried Colonel Ames, the handle of the shovel sticking up as a makeshift marker. It appeared he was in some kind of desert, so there was little choice but to seek shelter. It was early and still dark. He looked up at the sky to see short bursts of light, as if meteors had lost their will to streak across the atmosphere and instead burnt out immediately. READ MORE


The summer was long so they started buying things. They bought jacks, Wiffle balls, a bocce set. Then Eleanor came over one day and said to Roxy, let's go. They went down by Winter's Pond to the fields. When Eleanor wasn't looking Roxy filled his pockets with pebbles. She pointed to a spot beyond some trees and unzipped the backpack that was strapped to her chest. PRINT ONLY

The Good Life

Block Club

Stuart did not know how to fix the brakes of a bicycle. He loaded his ten-speed into the station wagon and took it to the shop just off the boulevard. The air outside implied the summer that was not far off. The sky was overcast though and threatening rain. He had been during this lead up to the warm part of the year thinking often about living a long life, how he desired it and how it would require a certain amount of work. Such work mandated something he could only think of as life force. He wondered if he had enough life force for such a task as growing old. READ MORE

Three purple balloons floated in the winter air. They sometimes bumped into each other and said excuse me like they didn’t mean it. One of them named Pete was looking forward to the hour in which enough helium would leak out that he would drift down to the pavement. He felt stranded in the air like a water skier pulled behind a cruise liner. He loved the ground even though he had never been there. READ MORE

When Our Hands Were Joined

Everyday Genius

     One morning in her waking moments Sandra had a vision of a dress. As an aspiring designer, she and a friend were toying with starting their own boutique. She awoke, sat up in bed and wanted to get a pad and pencil to sketch the dress, but Victor was holding on to her. Let go, I need to get some paper, she said. Victor hummed briefly in his own waking moments. He was a technical writer and wrote how-to manuals for a company in Baltimore. READ MORE

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