A boy and a girl went to a café together...

Three teenagers walked side by side down a path, deeper into the dense forest, navigating their way through the night...

“John. Jooohn?” John was sitting on the faded couch when the sound of the door opening made him flail around and scramble to put the damp, tinfoil-wrapped thing in his back pocket...

Her hands were always clasped tightly over her lap when she stood next to her husband in church...

“This is insane,” I mutter as we approach the glistening water...

At the end of the road sits her mother’s house, yellow paint peeling and foundation slowly settling into the dried riverbed on which it was built...

The steady, rhythmic pulsing of what Yuri calls a “hairspring” reeks of eighth grade science class and a dying frog...