He’s waiting on the porch when I get home, arms crossed like he owns it. I don’t speak. Just unlock…
She’s been on the park bench for hours. Not afraid, not ready. The doctor’s words still echo: weeks, not months. A whiff…
Eve walked the meadow each morning, her eyes scanning the damp ground. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze as a nearby…
They met by accident, mirroring movements, feeling the other’s joy and sorrow. She traced his palm, her fingertip mapping forever.…
The neighborhood was buzzing.