It was a day like no other. January first, 2038. New year, new me. At least until the Incinerators came. Let me organize this story in a way that will be the most gratifying. I don’t get to tell stories often, and I don’t want to bore anyone. Space. The beginning and ending of the trudge of life. Life, that ever-expanding, ever-fruitful bending of a straitened reality. Never showing anything. Always learning. The science of space travel had just turned 10 years old. In our short jaunt through space, we colonized all the planets of our solar system. Even Jupiter. Do you have any idea how hard it is to land on gas? That’s what she said. It was a brave new time. We had created a new form of energy. It turns out that the human sperm and egg, when put into a supercollider, produce a form of energy so potent that it can hardly be contained. They called it Banging, after the Big Bang theory. It was supposed that such a collision could have begun the universe, or some such other. Goodness gracious, do I digress. We had colonized the entire solar system in less than ten years, and as soon as we reached the “used to be” planet, Pluto, something that had mocked us for millennia with its icy deserts. Suddenly, there was a jolt out into the heavens. We stood at the edge of our solar system, realizing that we were way out of our depth and that whatever was coming wouldn’t be waiting for autographs. Storytelling is one of the great arts. It’s difficult to put into coherent words the terror, the frustration, the fear that the Incinerators brought to bear upon such a small, relatively backward race. We still hadn’t figured out how to make bullets work in zero gravity. Our only way of killing someone was to take their helmet off and hope they would suffocate. But the incinerators were different. They breathed carbon monoxide natively, and oxygen. Some sort of ungodly take on amphibians. We’ll get to why they’re called “The Incinerators” in a minute. But suffice it to say that we weren’t happy about our new foe, nor had we even contemplated the vastness of space or its potential pitfalls. What kind of problems had we created for ourselves? How much pain had we caused? The first ship to go down was Admadames at the far edge of the solar system. It was my ship. I had just started captaining it ten days before it was struck out of space, leaving only debris and an unrelenting zeal for revenge. My first instinct was to go down with the ship. Perhaps death in space wasn’t something so terrible after all. But I had experience. Plus, those medallions on my uniform were pure gold. Very hard to replace. I escaped with my life, but I’ll never forget the dangers of war in space. A war is not so much a measure of life’s fleeting quality as it is a test of patience. Everyone wants to have their say, but they won’t. Only a person – a being – with a clear voice and a positive mental attitude will ultimately have the last word. We fought. Our principal weapons were just toys to them – to the Incinerators.  We fought like crazy, but we couldn’t make them stop. They kicked us out of Jupiter with a garbled shout. We were routed from Uranus, home of the Pixie Pavilion and the largest human cohort outside of Earth. The pain we felt. The evil did not triumph for long. It was at this time in 2041 that we made our stand. In only three years we went from having the whole solar system to having less than when we started. All told, only about 73% of the Earth was still ours by the time the Incinerators got here. There was no way out. My commanding officer, General Perimedes of the Space Shock Force, told me that this would be our chance. I commanded the remaining forces of the Human Space Fleet, but I was becoming increasingly worried. I never knew that one planet could lose that many ships. That many cadets. After multiple attempts on my own life, as well as the lives of my direct reports, I decided to go on the offensive. Using the highest security clearance available, my cohort and I developed a plan that would “Shock” the Incinerators into ultimate surrender. This was not some chicken scratch plan written on the back of a dairy box, but a well-thought-out and effective plan that had both a high chance of succeeding and little in the way of downsides. If all went well, we would have defeated these “space gremlins” and gotten back on track to achieve our goal. The crazy thing about all of this that I’m saying to you is that it was never my plan to be in the military, much less the savior of all we hold dear, the savior of humanity. I was a young peacenik and conscientious objector who wanted to be a visual artist. Painters, they called us. Always slinging paint. I had covered enough canvasses to lace the Great Wall of China, but I found that something was missing. Then, there was space. The great inventor, Dareth Musk, had just concocted a special chemical that would successfully carry humanity on an adventure that no one even thought possible. I was the one who was called. I did my duty, often without recognition, without comfort. It was the most painful, and yet most exhilarating experience I’ve ever had. So many great things happened, some terrible. When humanity finally made its stand, it didn’t look to the outside world that we even knew what we were doing. The plebes, so focused on Saturday night TV. Even at that time, most had no idea of the fight involved. We mounted our weapons and took heed. No one could stop us because we were determined to bring the fight to them. We were the ones that had the most to lose, who had lost the most, who wanted the most. It was at the Battle of Baf Matex that it all came into being. We had already had some success kicking the Incinerators off the surface of the planet, but they were swarming. Our special weapon, the Dynamo Complex, had been in development for a few months and was ready to go. The Incinerators, as powerful as they seemed, didn’t know what to do. They fell, and we entered the immortal, permanent sky.


"And this is why I hate moving, '' exhales Namita and lights up her cigarette. She looks around from her balcony. A sense of loneliness sinks into her as she sees rows and rows of empty balconies and she thinks to herself "Where is human life here?" She just shifted to this apartment and was looking to make new friends. She finished her cigarette and went back into the flat. As she was arranging her stuff she starts questioning her decision to move. “Why did I leave my friends and sweet home! Now I need to make new friends here.” While reminiscing the good old days she starts snoozing off and then finally sleeps on the floor. “Knock knock” she woke up in a jump. “Coming”. “Ma’am your grocery is here” says the delivery man. She thanks him and goes into her messed up kitchen. “I think i need a cup of tea”. She prepared the tea and went to her balcony with the cup. “Love this weather. Yeah I remember now, I came to Bangalore for this weather”. There was a commotion of a normal evening in the apartment. She again started looking at the balconies and saw one guy in the adjoining one. “Hmm my neighbour, finally”. Pankaj was her neighbour and he was quite an introvert. He hardly interacted with anyone in society. Today he was quietly reading a book on his balcony. “Hey there” shouted Namita but Pankaj didn’t respond. “I am your new neighbour, I have just moved today”. “Hello, Myself Pankaj”, Pankaj replied in an impersonal tone. He didn’t even look at her. “That's a bit rude” thought Namita, “Can’t he give a bit of a warm welcome, no I am here to help if you need anything”. Namita shrugged it off and got back to her cup of tea. Next day in the evening she again saw him on the balcony. This time again she initiated conversation. Pankaj was more warm in his response. But Namita sensed awkwardness in his body language. He was not making eye contact while conversing. She thought it was normal being a bit awkward in the beginning. These small talks continued for 2-3 days. But Namita always notices he’s not comfortable with her because of how he avoids eye contact with her. “Maybe something is wrong with her eyes, huh” She thought. …………. Over the weekend she was coming down stairs to throw some stuff. She was quite exhausted and not being mindful. The new stairs were less forgiving of her lack of attention and she slipped on the stairs. Luckily at the end moment she was caught by none other than Pankaj. “I am so sorry” she said, taking back control. “It’s no problem” replied Pankaj. “Wait, did he just look into my eyes … Yes he did. And he has beautiful eyes” thought Namita. She thanked him again and continued on her way. She kept thinking about his eyes. ………. They started having a daily routine of talking though balconies now. Pankaj was also more comfortable with her now. They discuss their daily lives in the evening. Namita even asked him why he doesn’t mingle with anyone else in society. He just replied he's a bit shy. After a few days Namita invited Pankaj over for a party. “Come we’ll have fun. I have asked my office colleagues to come over too”. “I’ll try but i can’t promise” Pankaj tried to shrug it off. “Please please, you have not even seen my flat yet. We just talk over balconies” “Ok I’ll try to make it” ……….. Finally Friday came and the party started. Namita’s friend started coming in. Everyone was enjoying the party, but Namita was waiting for someone else. Hours went by and Pankaj didn’t come. After everyone left She started cleaning up the flat. Someone knocked on the gate. Finally Pankaj arrived. “Why are you so late?” asked Namita, a bit annoyed. “I was just waiting for everyone to leave, you know I am a bit shy. I generally don’t come to the parties but I promised and here I am”. “Well the party is over. Now you should help with cleanup. This is your punishment”. “Sure”. “Also there’s some wine left, please help yourself” Pankaj poured two glasses of wine. They started cleaning the flat. Namita shared her experience, how she enjoyed getting everyone here.. “Ok, tell me one thing, why were you so afraid of me in the beginning? You never even looked me in the eyes” teased Namita. “You want the right answer or wrong one” “Hmm, tell me wrong first” “well, I am shy” “And real reason” “That’s bit long and you might not like it” “Well I have all the time and 2 bottles of wine to like your reason” “Ok, I tried to warn you. The thing is I don’t want to look into the people’s eyes” “I know that. But *why*?” exclaimed Namita. “Because I immediately know when and how people are going to die” Pankaj said monotonously. “What? How?” asked Namita with a bewildered look on her face. “For some reason when I see through the eyes, I can talk to the soul of the person” “ok, go on” . Suddenly the glass of wine was feeling too heavy to her. “The soul tells me when and how they are going to die. I can’t have this burden on me. If I know when a person is going to die and then I can’t just pretend to talk like everything is normal” “Ok but you looked into my eyes and you are very comfortable with me now” asked Namita. Wine’s effect was fading on her. “Yeah, I tried to avoid you. But that day on the stairs I accidentally looked into your eyes”. “Hmm ok. And you don’t feel any burden because of me?” asked Namita in a sobered tone but she felt ghastly.


As I walked into the office, it looked spick and span and modern. I didn't know what to expect. I had searched the net for many days to get the address of this place. The receptionist, a brunette looking all of her thirty-odd years, greeted me. "Welcome to SFD office Madam, can I help you?"                                                            "Thank you, I am Mrs Silverking. I had called earlier you gave me an appointment to see Mr Salvatore." I said.                                                            "Please take a seat, Madam. I will confirm your appointment and send you to him." I sat down thankfully. Feeling tired, frequently was a symptom I was suffering from. My doctor had told me that there is not much they can do to cure my cancer as of today.                                                  The receptionist called on the intercom and spoke. "Mr Salvatore, one Mrs Silverking wants to see you. You will see her now? I will send her to you. Thank you." She disengaged her intercom and called me. "Madam, Mr Salvatore will see you in his cabin. Please proceed to the seventh floor. You will see his office right in front of you."                                                            The elevator was a modern soundless model with touch-enabled switches. I got in and pressed the number seven. Soft classical music was wafting into my ears as I stood in the chill atmosphere of the cage. There was no one in the elevator at that moment. I reached the floor and walked out. Right in front of me was an office marked Mr Salvatore, Executive Director, SFD.                                                As I walked in, I saw another brunette manning a desk. “Mrs Silverking, I presume,” she said and asked me to step right into the inner office.                                                It was a plush office. The Director was an expansive man in his fifties. He had black hair, probably dyed, and a receding hairline. He was plump as the comfortable chair he was sitting in. He gestured me to take a seat, and I did. The door closed itself softly.                                                "Yes, Mrs Silverking. I am so happy that you have subscribed to our deluxe package. You said on the phone you needed some counsel about preparing to go down. I am here to help you. I will ask Rina to get you our literature for going under. He gave a crisp order to his secretary, who scurried in immediately with a sheaf of papers neatly packaged. Salvatore inquired, ‘Coffee for you, Madam?’, noting my acceptance, he told Rina, “two freshly brewed cups of Americano please.”                                                "Have a look at the kit, Madam. Most of the information you need and some FAQs are in the kit, there. You can have a glimpse at it and then ask me any further doubts or questions you may have."                                                Skimming at the literature, I got a rough idea of how I need to prepare for my going under. The intro pamphlet mentioned the purpose of SFD: To prepare clients and put them to sleep using the latest Hypothermic techniques. It seems that they had begun this about 12 years ago. Apart from the front office and administration, they had medical, legal and Rehab departments. The legal department dealt with making legal documents like wills. Vetting and preparing the clients was the responsibility of the medical department. Their Rehabilitation section dealt with the reinstalling of clients back to mainstream. Their promise was, ‘all client services in one place’.                                                "We will schedule you to meet our legal and medical experts tomorrow. We scheduled your flight down to be next Monday if all the checks are fine. Any further questions, Madam?" Salvatore asked.                                                "Will I be down for ten years as I have contracted to? Then when I come back, will they restore all my rights?" I asked. I knew the answers but wanted some reassurance. "Surely you will be reinstated fully, Madam. You need to have no fear. We have already restored over twenty-five clients in the past two years. We will be continually doing this as clients complete their tenure. We will resuscitate you, on October 15th 2020, for instance. It clearly mentions all this in our contract, which you are going to sign. We are also taking the signature of your next of kin so that there will be no problem. Your son Frank Silverking is signing, I am told, on your papers. Everything is legitimate and clear, Madam. We are a client-friendly organisation. We are here for your sake."                                                We were sipping our coffee as we talked. I put the cup down. "What are the things I need to do before I come here to stay down for ten years, Mr Salvatore?"                                                "Well, Madam," he continued as he slowly sipped his coffee, "you need to make sure you provide for your pets and your property. As your son stays in your house, he will look after the essentials. Please inform all your friends and loved ones that you will not be available for them for the next ten years. You can tell them you are off to South America if the truth would seem strange to some of them”                                                “Will I be able to come back to my life? Will medical science advance by 2030 to get a cure for my cancer?” I ventured to ask feebly.                                                “We are in touch with your doctors and also with the scientists at the cutting edge of research too, Madam. They assure us that the treatment may be ready in 6 to 7 years. They would have done a few trials also by the time you come back, I am sure.” Salvatore seemed confident. It was his job to be so, I thought. He continued, “I will ask our doctors to have a session with you about the research that is being done on therapeutics in Cervical cancer research in the top universities of the United States today. They will be able to convince you better than me. Will there be anything else Madam?”                                    “What about the costs involved Mr Salvatore? I have paid up the entire costs. I suppose that also accounts for any escalation that may take place in the ensuing decade.”                                    “Yes, Madam. Our accounts section is clear about this. Thank you, Madam, for trusting us with your most precious life.”                                    Indeed, I am trusting this corporation with my life. I began to have some qualms about it. “Am I doing the right thing?” I asked myself for the umpteenth time.                                    Going home, I started to settle my accounts at every front. “Should I be writing an obituary for myself too?” I wondered as I did this. It felt as if I am preparing to die. “Maybe I will be able to come back. If not, then how? Then it is almost like I am going to die.” I thought as I pondered my future.


I always wondered what they meant when someone said they were a kid at heart. I never knew that kind of spirit. Even as a child, I only knew responsibility. No fun, no games, nothing. Then my neighbor asked me to get in touch with my inner child for a few hours to watch her son. I had spent a lot of time around them and quite enjoyed their company, but being solely responsible for a six year old was a lot of work and I wasn't sure I was up for the challenge. In order to gain confidence, I thought about my childhood, but I couldn't remember anything. What kind of things did I enjoy? I couldn't even remember watching cartoons or playing with toys. She insisted that I would only have to pick him up from school, make him a quick snack, and put on some cartoons. And while the task didn't seem very challenging in words, I was definitely unsure of my ability to entertain a child. Nevertheless, our friendship was more important to me than unexplained fears and I accepted. After all, she really needed the help. She was up for a promotion and the extra time at work would almost guarantee her the job. The day came too soon and my anxiety kept creeping in. Would Josh have a good time in my apartment until his mom got home? I wasn't sure that simply following my friend's instructions would be enough. I decided to take a nap before the afternoon crept up on me in hopes that it would ease my mind, but as quickly as I fell asleep, my alarm went off. I then impulsively decided to walk to pick him up as I figured the exercise would help wind him down and keep him calm once we got home. After signing him out, everything was going as planned until he suggested that we take a shortcut that he and his mom discovered. I didn't like the idea, but he insisted that his favorite park was on that route, so I gave in. When we set foot on the park path, I started to shiver. I felt funny and off, and as dark clouds formed around us, I wanted to turn around and go with my original route. But something wouldn't let me; something pushed me to act like a child and feel excitement in anticipation of the park. I was worried about Josh getting wet, and possibly catching a cold, but even more terrified of encountering lightning. Thankfully, the clouds didn't make much of an impression and gave way to a sunny afternoon quickly. Just as the last cloud vanished, I heard Josh exclaim in happiness. “Yes! We're finally here,” he said as he ran through a gate. From the outside it didn't look like a park, but who was I to argue with an eager six year old. As we passed a path lined by trees, a simple playground was revealed and I was relieved. Josh immediately knew what he wanted to do and wasted no time. He tried everything out. First, he sat on the swings. He tried three different ones out and each time he looked around. Then he looked in a tunnel. But that must have not been his thing because he quickly decided he wanted to try out a rocking horse. He was an odd little fellow for sure, but he looked to be having fun in his own way. “My mommy says I should try everything out, but I know it's the slide. It's always the slide.” His voice was so fresh and cute that his gibberish made the perfect sense. “You mean the slide is your favorite, right?” I asked him knowing the answer already. Then my phone interrupted our fun. His mom was checking in and I assured her that we were having a good time. “Your mom is gonna be a little later than expected because she's working really hard, but we can hang out here for a while. Does that sound good bud?” I was worried he'd be upset, but he just kept smiling and laughing. Behind a rather peculiar snicker, he said, “I'm working harder! I brought you to the dream slide.” “What's the dream slide?” The name intrigued me and I wanted to know more. “Get on here and I'll tell you.” He told me with a warm smile and grabbed my hand leading me to the slide. “I don't know if I'll fit.” I tried to reason with him, but he was unusually strong and pushed me to the steps of the slide. I gave in and climbed on. “Try it. I'll catch you at the bottom,” he said as he opened his arms and positioned himself perfectly to catch me. “I'll be okay,” I chuckled. “Scoot back and watch, okay?.” He nodded and I slid down. “Go again. But this time think of your dreams. Kid dreams. Like what you want to be when you grow up.” I smiled as I listened to his silly request. “Okay. I’ll try it.” I said with a big smile. As I slid down, something changed inside me. I remembered everything about being a kid. I remembered going to the park as a little boy. And I remembered eating popsicles and coloring with crayons. It felt so good that I wanted to go again and again, but as good as it felt, I wasn't the child and I needed to give Josh a turn. “Let's take turns, yeah? This is really fun!” I could hear a youthful joy in my voice that filled me with happiness. Deep down I longed to continue the connection with my childhood that I had previously forgotten. This was where I wanted to be. I savoured every moment even while sharing the slide with Josh. As we played I couldn't help but wonder if the slide had been my favorite park adventure as a child. I decided to try to remember a memory of being at the park as a child on my next turn. As I slid down, I was completely consumed by childhood. “It's a lot of fun, isn't it Derek?” There was something off about Josh’s voice, but I dismissed it. Surely all the excitement and yelling had made him hoarse. Besides, my turn was up next. All I could focus on was the childish rush. But it was abruptly interrupted by an eerie honk. Josh and I tried to look toward the street to see who was honking. He then darted off and began to snicker as he hid behind the jungle gym. “Oh, look Josh, it's your mom! She must have finished up early.” I turned to him to let him know our fun was over, but I didn't see him anywhere. The rush of the dream slide was still running in my veins and I tried to compose myself as Linda walked toward us. “Come on Josh. Your mom’s here,” I said as I looked around. I started to get a little nervous because I couldn't see him, but surely he was just hiding in the jungle gym. “Hey, how'd it go?” Linda said with a friendly smile. “It's been g-” I began to answer, but she cut me off rather rudely. “Not you, I'm talking to him.” That quickly made my youthful high disappear and I felt a string of emotions that I couldn't contain. I was upset and my tears showed it. “Everything went smoothly.” A strange voice spoke from behind the slide. It certainly wasn't Josh. Then I saw Josh climb the steps and approach the slide. He looked at me and smiled. Then he spoke, but his voice was no longer silly or innocent. It was that of a man and had a tone that I couldn't comprehend. “It's always the slide. And good thinking with the childhood amnesia elixir. The slide was able to collect more energy and the switch was easier. I think it will last a lot longer this time, and it feels better too.” He said all of this with a terrifying smirk on his face. He sounded mean and he made my heart sink. Then he slid down the slide, only when he reached the bottom, he was a grown up. Linda smiled and turned her attention towards me. She was loving and motherly as she gave me a hug and wiped my tears away. “You hear that? I got my promotion!'' She said excitedly. She pulled a small mirror out of her pocket and with a soft voice said,”look, you're a doll.” Confusion filled my soul and she could no longer keep up with wiping my tears. When I looked in the mirror, I saw myself as a child and I couldn't help but cry. Her soft voice tried to soothe me. “It's only temporary Derek. You'll grow up again one day.


“Economics is fascinating, really.” I said, looking into the mirror at the man sleeping in the backseat of the car. “Nothing is truly stable. There are fluctuations everywhere. The stock market, interest rates. Sure, people have an idea of how consistent something performs, and put all their money in that, thinking its safe. It’s not. Nothing’s safe when it comes to money.” We were driving down a long stretch of highway, enjoying the time we had together. “So, you put things in a ‘safe’ place, or at least your broker tells you its safe, and you trust him, so why not, right? Then that ‘safe place’ decides to go belly up. All that money you put in there is just vapor at this point, right? Just because a bunch of people didn’t value that stock anymore.” I gripped the steering wheel tightly. I wasn’t bitter. “Economics is just a fantasy on a planet-wide scale!. A bunch of people thought that the stock was valuable one second, the next, it’s worth nothing. Then schmucks like you and me have to deal with a auto-recorded phone call from their broker saying ‘sorry I’m a dipshit that gave you bad advice-blah blah blah- goodbye cruel world’” He even had the gunshot sound during the recording! Do you believe that?! Like I gave a shit about his pathetic life at that point. I had to get back to work!” My friend’s head nodded as he slept. He understood me, even while he was sleeping. He really was a great guy. It was too bad I had to drop him off. “So now, I’m what, sixty eight? My old job at the railroad was too much for me anymore. I can’t do what I did back then. My body won’t take it, but my mind. Oh boy, my mind is just as sharp as it ever was. So I take the last of my money, go to school and grab some certifications that I could use to help myself get back on the right track, you know? I grabbed some counseling credentials. Fuck, if my therapist can charge me hundreds of dollars an hour to talk, I could at least get a few bucks doing the same thing, right?” I heard a snore, which I took as affirmation of my thoughts. He really was quite understanding. “Turns out, nobody wanted to hire me. I look *great* on paper. Hell, I think I look great in general, you know what I mean? Look at me! I’m quite the catch!” I adjusted the rear view mirror to take a look at myself and brush a few stray hairs out of the way, brushing them back into my pompadour. “I would get through the initial phases, but for some reason, they didn’t like me after the interview! What kind of bullshit is that, I ask? Some major bullshit! I out-qualified every other applicant! They even told me so! ‘You’re overqualified’ ***WHATEVER***.” I pounded my palm against the steering wheel. My BFF fell over. It was a bit melodramatic, in my opinion, but at least he’s on my side. “So now, I have to go freelance, right? If there’s no opportunity, MAKE an opportunity. I’m so very glad you’ve decided to come along and help me make this opportunity for myself. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You know that, right?” Another snore, a loud one, confirmed he understood the importance of his assistance. The hemp friendship bracelets I had made for him had tangled together. I would have to help him get those off later. Don’t want him to wake up to hands that are asleep. That’s the worst feeling ever. “So, I found this opportunity up here. Real quiet town. One stop sign type of place. Nice little convenience store for people passing through like you and me.” I winked at him. “Anyway, I scouted the place out. I think we’ll do really well here!” I looked at the GPS map my Best Friend had pulled up for me, and we were nearly there. He was quite the catch himself. I felt so lucky to have him with me. “When there is no opportunity, you MAKE an opportunity!” I sounded so confident. I’m sure my heterosexual life mate would agree. “You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs! Fortune favors the bold! Yes, these are all true, my friend! We’re going to show those asswipes on Wall Street that even little guys like you and me can make a major impact on the world! We don’t need those fancy retirement accounts! We can survive on our wits! And our cunning! And...we’re here!” I turned down the main lane, stopping just a block away from the convenience store. “Ok! So here we go! I’m going to wander up there, ok? I parked a little bit away, because I need to stretch my legs. I’m going to grab the stuff, then in a few more minutes, you do your thing, right? And then I’ll be there to collect the checks and money! We can’t lose on this!” I got out, and rummaged through the trunk to find my sign and a table and a couple of folding chairs. I was halfway to the store when I remembered that I had forgotten to take off my soulmate's bracelets. I set the things down, and ran back to him, cut the hemp ropes off, and started walking back to my things while pushing the lock button on my key fob. “Remember kids, we’re parked on the tracks!” I chuckled at my own joke. So clever. I set up the table just outside the convenience store. Made it look all nice, had a couple of clipboards, some pens. The folding chairs were those nice ones with cloth covered foam seats. I went all out! It was going to pay off, I knew it. It wasn’t long before the railroad crossing activated. My car, and the love of my life were right there, in the middle of it. Sitting there, waiting for this moment. A moment later, the train whistle sounded as the locomotive powered down the line and finally was able to see the car on the tracks. I saw my love’s head jolt up, confusion on his face as he tried to clear his head from the chloroform headache. It was a doozy to get over, I tell you. Been there once or twice myself. When realization struck, he tried to reach for the door handle, but it was too late. The sight of a train hitting a vehicle is actually underwhelming, and nothing like they show in the action movies where there's explosions and cool people walking away from them without looking at the fiery inferno occurring behind them. Nope. It’s a loud crash, followed by the sound of screeching metal and rubber on the street. It was at that moment, that I unveiled the sign.


We were earth’s First Fleet, sent to colonise the closest habitable planet in our galaxy. Unmanned probes were sent first, followed by landing drones. However, we would be the first humans to set foot on a planet outside of our solar system. In amongst a fleet full of scientists, pilots, engineers and soldiers I stood alone … as the entertainer. I was a pianist for the military band and had volunteered to join this expedition not out of a sense of duty or a craving for adventure. I had volunteered simply because there was nothing left for me on earth. I didn’t have many friends at all in this fleet with nearly everyone belonging to some team in one way or another. No, I stood alone. “Get up,” the drunkards would say to me, “Play us something.” Our first few hours escaping earth’s orbit was one of hopeful sadness. We knew that we had left everyone we loved behind. But this was to be a grand adventure, the greatest adventure in human history. I sat at the piano and looked out at the audience. Many were happy, drinking and having a laugh. But some were melancholy, preferring to be alone with their thoughts. My fingers began to work across the keys. I opened with a D minor, settling into an easy flowing melody. The 5th would be the natural progression giving the piece an ethereal feel. I flattened out the 6th note in the melody, finally confirming my use of the Dorian scale. The sadness in the piece could be now be felt as I moved onto another minor chord, in this instance an E minor. From here there could be only one place to move. I hit the G major chord, bringing the progression to its victorious climax. Finally I returned home to the D minor, quietly ending the piece as our fleet moved its way further from our stellar home. \*\*\* We landed on our new planet two weeks ago. That is approximately three and half weeks in earth time. This world we have named, unimaginatively in my opinion, Eden. Erroneously too as it turns out, for this world is not the earth analogue that the scientists had predicted. The temperature is significantly colder than expected considering its atmospheric composition and distance from the sun. The ground, as a consequence, is unfriendly to agriculture but for a few root vegetables. The storms are much more frequent than we had expected and although our habitations have so far remained stable we have had to reinforce them with the precious few materials we have. However, despite these hardships, the mood is one of optimism and the pioneering spirit of the great days of exploration has been reborn. The engineers tirelessly work on our buildings, the scientists eagerly survey our environment and the former soldiers have now reinvented themselves as our farmers and labourers. Each evening I play to the tired and overworked settlers. The boisterousness of the crowd is infectious and seeps through into my playing. I play an A major chord shifting next to a B major over A. Ah yes, that raised 4th removes the major scale mask revealing the Lydian scale underneath. I alternate between these two chords playing an uplifting melody over the top. However, the Lydian scale is harmonically unstable and simply cannot sustain an entire piece. I move over to the E major scale, somewhat rescuing the piece and adding a grandeur and joy to the music. The audience barely acknowledge me as my piano blends seamlessly with everyone’s merrymaking. \*\*\* Last season’s harvest has once again failed. The agony of starvation has now become a very real proposition as the news of food shortages is announced to the settlers. The response is silence as this possibility has already entered all of our minds during the last months. The storms, the unceasing relentless storms, have rendered long term colonisation impossible. This reality was one that we were all aware of when we left earth. However to face it is a much different thing entirely. The last messages to earth were sent although it will be many years before they will receive it. Finally, protocol Roanoke was implemented. We gathered inside our last undamaged habitation, most of us very weak from hunger, and listened as another storm ravaged our settlement. Slowly the oxygen was released as we waited for our eternal slumber on this alien planet. The captain asked me to play one last time, “As they did as the Titanic sank.” I didn’t know what he was referring to but I dutifully sat at my piano and began to play. My heart was sinking as I looked at the slumped people in front of me. Some were still breathing, steady and purposeful. I began my final piece by playing an F minor chord, slowly arpeggiating the notes up and down. I moved from the 5th to the flat 6th, down to the 4th and then to the 2nd. Finally I played the flat 3rd before returning to the F minor. The Aeolian mode, the most fitting scale for our current predicament. I continued to play as all breathing and movement stopped. The dead planet we found was a dead planet once more. I slumped onto my piano, the sound of dissonant notes echoing throughout our tomb. The final notes ever heard on Eden.


Trigger warning: sexual harassment We are sitting in David’s kitchen drinking tea. We do this every workday morning between 8.05 and 8.45. I rinse out the dregs and smooth away the tannin stains before I put the tea bag and boiling water in his cup. When I put David’s drink down for him, it knocks against the table top, and a tide of light brown liquid slops over the edge of the cup. I want to go and get a napkin to clear it up, but that will annoy him. “Why did you go there? Why did you agree to have a cup of tea with him?” The tea that David’s talking about has got nothing to do with the tea we’re drinking now. Because I like tea. Because he’s an important client and I wanted to work with him. Because why not? All of those are true. But I know David well enough now not to give any of these answers. He is unusual in that he’s consistent: I can often tell how he’ll react. “I didn’t think anything of it.” I say. “But why go to his house? I don’t get it.” He puts one arm around me and the other hand up to touch my forehead. His finger traces a parenthesis across the skin, except it’s not really a parenthesis because it’s turned at 90 degrees: so like the mouth on a sad face. “Are you okay?” His eyes go funny; a bit glazed and unfocused, and he sniffs. “I’m fine. He tried to kiss me. That’s all. So I left.” I nod, to try and reassure him. It seems to have worked because he takes his arm away. I gather up my things quickly and leave. David’s house is just over the road from my work. It was more than that. Ray stood over me, pushed down on my shoulders and tried to put his slug of a tongue into my mouth. I shoved him away. For a minute he looked like he was going to stop me leaving, but then it was okay. I left the building plans there though, and I don’t know how I’m going to get them back. Now it makes me think of the times at school with Mr James. Whenever he came over to me, he leaned into me, letting out a curdled puff of stale coffee breath. Then he touched my shoulder, always underneath the colour of my school blouse. I can still feel the branding of his hand; it still feels like there are flames reaching down from my shoulder towards my chest. *** I start work right away while my colleagues pace out the triangle between their desks, the bathroom and the kitchen, fetching coffee and porridge. I’m straight into my diagrams; I look at the floating cubes on my computer screen, and double-check calculations to make sure that the supporting walls will do what they’re supposed to. I can hear conversations drifting between the colleagues. This time they are talking about a club night they went to at the weekend. They invited me, but it would have been too much; the music and lights would have ensnared me, whipped me around until I felt dizzy and sick. This is okay though; the conversation is gentle, lapping away at the quiet in the office. Usually they leave me to it, but sometimes they talk to me, like today. “How are the plans going?” Oliver says, ‘I hope you didn’t work on them over the weekend.’ He fiddles with the new fluff that has grown on his chin over the last week or so; apparently he’s growing a beard. The rules of communication are difficult. I tried to develop my own manual by observing different people: like algebra: IF a and b are odd THEN a + b is even. IF you are talking to someone and they laugh THEN you should laugh back It doesn’t work with people though. They are inconsistent. Smiles and laughs can mean different things even when it’s the same person doing the smiling or laughing but at different times. So instead, Mum and I developed a strategy and she gave me some bullet points. I imagine the list she wrote in her neat squat letters: make eye contact, nod at the person talking to you, and don’t ask too many personal questions. And the most difficult one: don’t bang on about one subject for too long. “Here I’ve used structural analysis to make sure that the intersecting bridges in the hotel can safely support their loads.” I point at my screen, then carry on talking about my big project. Oliver is nodding and smiling; looking directly at me so I make eye contact with him. I hope I haven’t overdone it. “Interesting,” he says. “I don’t know how you do it. You must have a brain the size of England.” “Oh no, it’s not difficult. This program helps a lot.” I am about to show him some of the calculations when I realise I’m breaking the cardinal rule that I told Mum I would follow: Don’t bang on. I pull it back just in time, and stop talking. Mum said everyone is doing the same thing, making it up as they go along, except it’s a bit more challenging for me. That’s all. According to her, I think a bit differently to other people. Not better, not worse, just different. That’s all. *** As it’s Monday, we have our team meeting. The four of us from my office file into the meeting room, the other three clasping cups of coffee to their chests. I sit in my usual place opposite the clock. Daniel, our boss, comes in with two cups of coffee, one for him, and the other he puts in front of me. He does this every week, and he always says the same thing to the colleagues: “Tanya always has her head down working; not like you lazy fucks.” Then he and the others laugh, and I smile. In the meeting we go round the room to give updates on our projects. I get ready to invoke the strategy Mum and I put together, making sure my update lasts five minutes and no more. I use the second hand on the clock opposite to time myself: another tool in the battle not to bang on. Today I do it with around ten seconds to spare. Now I just have to ask the questions I’ve prepared on my colleagues’ updates to show I’m interested: a member of the team. They’re not the questions that I want to ask which would be about steel girders and weight bearing walls. I’m like an archaeologist scratching at the earth looking for ruins, except I scrape through graphics and measurements to find the perfect design. Even though my colleagues are, like me, structural engineers, they don’t have the same urge to dig into every detail. So I’ll ask them about the timetable for the work and what the client is like. I realise Daniel is asking me something. “How did the meeting with Ray go?” I pause. According to my strategy, personal questions are out of bounds; although what happened at Ray’s house is personal to me so maybe we can talk about it? I’m not sure. Before I get a chance to speak, Samantha cuts in. “You were brave going there, Tanya. He’s a sleaze.” Samantha is the loudest of my colleagues; we don’t talk to each other that much but she’s always been okay with me. “I’ve heard that, when he gives women a business card, he puts a condom behind it and hands that over as well.” I try and remember if he has ever given me a business card, but I don’t think he has. Samantha hasn’t finished, “And Leonie’s been to meet him three times. At his house.” All of the heads in the room turn to look at Leonie, my other quieter colleague. “I think we should take your points outside the meeting, Samantha. It’s not appropriate to discuss it here.’”Daniel turns towards me. “Was it okay Tanya?” He’s looking at me strangely; I can’t tell what he’s feeling. Everyone else in the room is looking down at their hands. “I left the plans for the bridge there. I need them back.” “I can get them back. Don’t worry about that.” *** Afterwards, the others go and get lunch but I stay in the office. I need that time to recover from the team meeting. My counsellor once asked me to describe how it felt to be me, which is strange, because does anyone know how it feels to be themselves compared to being someone else? But then she said I could write it down. It feels like I’m trying to sing a song but my timing is off. When I sing a high note, everyone else has moved on to the next note, which is lower. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t catch up with them. I can’t fall in with their rhythm. It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting. And that’s why I need this downtime. Everything’s quiet for twenty minutes, and I can feel my nerves calming down and my reserves of patience being replenished, until there’s a tap on the door. It’s Daniel. He comes in and perches on the edge of Samantha’s desk, and looks at me. “If anything did happen with Ray that made you feel uncomfortable you can let me know, and I can figure out what we should do.” I don’t say anything. “And if you don’t feel comfortable telling me, you can always write it down, or type it out. It’s only with your permission that I’ll take any action on it.” I still don’t say anything. “Or you can speak to Sue if you would prefer.” Sue is Daniel’s wife. I nod. He leaves the office, and I go back to studying the diagrams on my screen. I get another ten minutes on my own, then Leonie comes in and sits at her desk. She is quite new; I know she’s been struggling with the work. I smile at her. “I wasn’t hungry,” she says, “so I came back.” She stops talking for a few seconds, and I carry on clicking my diagrams and calculations. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she says, “What happened with Ray? I know I shouldn’t ask but he did some things that made me…….feel uncomfortable.” I think she’s saying that he did the same thing to her as he did to me. “I don’t mind you asking. He tried to kiss me. He tried to push his tongue in my mouth. David, my boyfriend, he asked me why I went to his house. He isn’t happy that I went there.” I don’t know why I’m telling her about David. “And what did you say to David?” “I said I didn’t think anything of it. But that’s not true. It’s because I wanted to work on the bridge project for Ray.” She nods, and then rubs her eyes with her fists. “People ask me the same thing, especially because I met him three times. I can’t tell them the truth.” ‘Right.’ “I went there because he made me feel pretty. Then I went back because I thought it would help me with the work here,” she looks down at her desk and shakes her head, “and then because I was too embarrassed to say no to going there. After that it was too late.” She sighs and looks towards the ceiling with watery light blue eyes that look like they will overflow her eye sockets and run down her face. People don’t always act rationally. Or at least they don’t do what is in their best interests, even though they may think they are acting in their best interests. And that includes me. I nod to show I understand, “That’s okay. He shouldn’t have done what he did to you.” *** That evening after work I go home to the house I used to share with Mum until ten months ago. She had been ill for three years by the time she died. That time went by both slowly and quickly. Some things are the same as when it was her and me together; I still cook the same meals on the same days; Monday is macaroni cheese. And my bath time is still at eight every evening even though I don’t need to have it that early any more; when she was alive, I had it at eight so that she could have a bath at nine. But lots of things are different as well. I didn’t meet David until after she had died. I go into her old room and sit on the bed. I play the swan theme from Swan Lake on my phone: that was always our soundtrack. When I was much younger, maybe eight or nine, I’d dance to it in elaborate swoops and pirouettes, twisting and diving around the living room. It was one of the few experiences I had of moving to the same rhythm as someone else, even if that someone was contained in a shiny compact disc. Sometimes Mum would join in; she’d sway and occasionally a clumsy leg or arm would come careering out and I’d have to dodge it; she wasn’t a graceful woman. Later on, especially as she became weaker, the two of us would just listen to it together. Now I listen to the music alone, but I don’t feel alone. I have the notes that she and I worked up; we designed them so that I’d be able to manage better once she wasn’t around. They are contained on a neat patchwork of post-it notes, in different pastel colours, stuck to her bedroom wall. I look at them most evenings. I think she would have been pleased at how I managed today. I have one more thing that I need to do though. I fetch my laptop from downstairs: I will write down everything that happened with Ray.


TW: Graphic descriptions of violence **Cassandra steps out into the coliseum, and the floor thick with black mud. It's storming, and the raucous crowd in the seats behind her seems to loathe her name. To her left is a cliff, where the mud sloughs off little by little into the abyss, and ahead of her is her Reputation.** **The doors shut quietly behind her as she stares up at the beast. It's stranger looking than her, and it's much taller, and rather lean. It’s eyes glow and its horns seem out of a functioning state. It holds an axe the size of her in one hand, and its tail seems to be amputated. Even still, it looks like her. Like looking in a carnival mirror. She ties her shotgun to her belt, revs her chainsaw, and rebuckles her shield.** **The announcer shouts over the comms that the fight is about to begin.** **It opens with a charge directly at her, feinting with a sidestep and a swing for her neck. She blocks with her shield, and counters with a blast of her shotgun. The shot sinks into its chest, and it sputters up somewhere on its face grey liquid for a second before pausing and letting out a deep, reverberating cacophony of what sounds like laughter. It retreats and fades into the background for a moment.** **The crowd cheers.** **It reemerges and takes a heavy step towards her. She backs up, two steps. It takes another step towards her. She steps back some more. She’s retreating. Like a coward, which is strange. She feels like prey. It's been a long, long time since Cassandra has felt like prey.** **She runs and slides between its legs and attempts to sink her now spinning chainsaw into one of its arms. And then her saw** **gets** **stuck.** **It grabs the blade in its other paw and rips the chainsaw, straps and all, from her wrist and tosses it off into the abyss on the other side of the cliff. It bops her on the head, removing the top few layers of her horns, costing her most of her teleportation charges. The monster begins the next round of combat.** **She pulls out her shotgun out of fear, and lets a shot loose into its face, Tenderizing it for double damage on her next attack. It grabs the gun from her, and tosses it too off of the cliff. She blocks a swing of its axe with her shield. And then another, and another, and another. Her first shield shatters into crystal shards that sink into the mud. The monster steps on a few as it advances towards her, either not noticing the glass or not caring. Cassandra retreats a few feet, and it throws its axe at her. She recalls her second shield to block it. Two charges left in her horns. The axe deflects off the shield and embeds itself into the crowd. The monster climbs up to get it, giving Cassandra a few moments to think.** **The rain gets heavier as the fight drags on. One swing of the serpent’s axe is blocked by a now broken shield, and it goes for one more. Cassandra reacts fast enough to catch the blade between her two palms. The rain makes her slip, and she lets go for just a second.** **The axe does not forgive this mistake.** **The metal is freezing, tearing through her shoulder and becoming embedded in the floor. Bone leaves its flesh, and she can’t hear her arm plop into the mud below her over the storm. She summons her wrist cannon to her remaining arm and loads it with mud from the floor while the beast attempts to remove its axe from the floor. It gives up, and rushes at her barehanded. It slams into her, and it's almost rotting human face stares down at her as she readies her cannon. She pulls back the drawstring with her teeth, and lets go. The force of the mud being flung staggers it, and she ports scrap metal into her cannon while the serpent recoils. There are no charges left in her horns now. It stomps back over to her, and she pulls back the string one last time, aimed between its glowing, empty eyes.** **The crowd goes silent.** **As Cassandra stood there, standing over the corpse of her Reputation, she began to wonder. What the fuck had she gotten herself into? It had taken her arm from her. And her gun, shields, horns, and saw. Even though her opponent was dead, the door on the other side of the arena was still shut. So she got to tearing its head off its neck with her claws. After 10 minutes of sawing off the beast’s newly donut'd skull and lugging it with one hand and two legs, getting it stuck in the mud beneath her a few times, fifty feet to the door. Lightning sans thunder flashes in the background as she presses the monster’s ugly mug against the scanner on the pristine, metal double doors.** **The doors creak open. She steps out into the next level of the dungeon.


The Lady I Live With  The lady I live with knows me. I don’t know her, but she knows me. Sometimes when I’m on my computer I see her in the corner of my room, crouched and balled up like a starving child. Her eyes watch me sometimes too. They feel empty like an abandoned house, but something watches me behind it’s windows. A green galaxy surrounds her voided pupils with the outskirts of a thick brown ring keeping it from escaping. Usually when I’m cooking I see her resting on my electric oven as if it were a warm bed, but sometimes she would stand exactly one foot behind me and watch as I cook my usual eggs and toast, occasionally doing one of those crying sniffles that happen loudly and quickly as the toast pops out. Her nose isn’t what I would really call a nose though. It’s more skeletal since it’s so thin and pointy, like a horn.. She likes to play pranks on me almost every month. I would be sleeping in bed or listening to music when she’d start laughing. Not laughing as from joy, but an “I’m giving up” crying kind of laugh where it howls coarser and longer than usual. After a few seconds of laughing I’d feel blood, then pain. I could find one of my fingernails missing, or cuts and scratches on the bottoms of my arms or all over my chest. It’s more annoying than painful. My blanket and shirt are usually light colored, like white or yellow. So whenever she pranks me I have to buy a new shirt without the brown stain of blood. I notice she’s kind of mean. After school and work she’d berate me in the voices of friends and co-works. I don’t know how she knows how they sound or even how they are, but it’s mean. It’s always at times when I’m at peace too. I like taking in the noises of the roads outside my house and the constant chattering of the neighbors above me. They always have something interesting to talk about or do. At some points they turn into music singing and vocalizing beautiful symphonies. With the repetitive scream or thud, it helps me relax and sleep. Until their performance is once again ruined by the lady. I know she likes to see me cry. Whether from a movie or from pain, I see her standing with her hands locked behind her back as she smiles open mouthed. I see her wrinkles from her cheeks so scrunched up they looked as if they were going to snap. Her eyes would be squished and widened as her smiles grew ever so bigger, until I stopped crying. Her face plateaus as her emotion and joy are shot out like a bullet. She irritates me. She dresses up like me every day, even down to the hair and height. I always ask her to stop, but she never does. When I walk out the shower I see she has my exact clothing for the day. A baby blue t-shirt with a black and white sunset embroidered on the chest. White shorts speckled with tiny light pink roses. Lastly she has my wet straight black hair running over her forehead and blurring a smidge of her eyes. She’s nothing, but a hurtful copycat. Or more accurately, a second me. It’s like having your reflection become a real object. I hate her. No one knows about her, no one has seen her. She knows me, but I don’t know her. Even though she’s a replica of me, she is dead. There’s no life in her emotions or movements, even though they're mine. She has no name, and I won’t give her one. Human is not what she is. It’s like watching a robot imitate human life. Wake up, eat, work, observe, and see herself without her eyes. Behind me.


"Girl, are you ready yet?” Myrna impatiently asked through the phone. Thank goodness Myrna could not hear Janie rolling her eyes or else the control freak would peak its ugly head.  Myrna was a long term friend since Kindergarten and now they were in the summer, before becoming seniors in high school. Even though it had only been a year Janie was gone from her hometown, her friend, Myrna now seemed a stranger. “I’ll be ready soon. If I’m not there, just go ahead without me. I’ll meet you there”, Janie said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Alright. Fifteen minutes to get your ass here. If not – I’m outie.”

Janie hung up the phone and looked at herself in the mirror. Her long, thick brown hair waved down to her elbows. The hazel green, almond eyes looked lighter. Usually, that meant Janie was excited. Her eyes changed depending on the mood. Yet, truly, inside Janie was semi dreading seeing her old clique. She left south Florida because her step father abused her. She knew people talked once she left – even her so called friends. Fourteen years of abuse endured and now her mother, she was visiting, was finally divorced from the monster. You would never know the suffering Janie endured by looking at her face. Beautiful, the word many used to describe her, but she didn’t always see it.

With a sigh, Janie headed out the door to Myrna’s house. Upon arriving, Myrna gave her the warmest hug. Feeling obligated, she hugged back. Thinking in her mind, “be normal. Just be normal.”

“Alright, chica, let’s go have some fun”, Myrna excitedly said. They were headed to Grand Prix Race O Rama in Miami. A forty-five minute drive sounded excruciating to Janie. She didn’t want to talk about why she left or how things were living with her father. To her relief, Myrna blasted the stereo, the entire way there.

Once at the fun spot, anxiety and excitement rushed through Janie. Grand Prix had everything fun under one roof. From video games to go cart racing and even some rides. With unlimited money from her mother’s credit card – the night seemed promising. That is when she heard the awful screeching she dreaded. The hand clapping and high pitched bumbling of all her girlfriends she went to school with in past. They gushed over her looks and Janie felt like a celebrity that was bomb rushed by reporters.

Myrna, the most level- headed friend of the bunch, sensed Janie’s tenseness and told everyone to go inside.

Inside, the tone changed. The place was filled with noise from games and music. The intercom boomed with the latest deals. While everyone else seemed like a kid in a candy store, Janie was able to finally breathe. With everyone’s mind occupied with entertainment, which left Janie to explore on her own. Without fail, the girls found her and clung to her hip.

It was at that moment, surrounded by noise, lights, and questions – all seemed to go quiet. Janie had spotted a man that took her breath away. He, like her, was surrounded by hassling friends. They were leaders in their groups but Janie sensed he felt the same as she. Wanting to be free from having to entertain them.

He was gorgeous. Thick dark brown hair and eyes to match. His eyes were the kind Janie could get lost in – so much personality within. She could tell he was from a Latino background, but could not place exactly where. Just looking at him seemed to lessen her anxiety. Janie thought to herself, “no way is he single. He seems to perfect.” With that, Janie lowered her gaze and walked towards the race track – the gabbing girls following.

An hour later, Janie became so consumed in the fun, nothing seemed to matter. While all the girls went to the restroom to replace their makeup, Janie found her favorite game. Mortal Combat. It was an oldie, but a goodie. The only game that required memorizing of codes and applying them to the character. Then, she heard it from behind, the sultriest voice, “Can I get next game against you?”

Janie didn’t have to look – she knew it was the man who made all nonexistent around her.  “Sure, if you are any good”, Janie said coyly. Even his laugh was music to her ears. It was the kind of voice that could make you melt but want to move mountains. Even his smell was kind to her nose. No overwhelming cologne. Just a fresh, crisp delightful smell.

Deliberately, Janie lost the game. He moved beside her and the feeling was as if they were longtime friends. The comfort and ease talking to him while playing the game, came as natural as brushing teeth. It seemed as if the game went on forever. They were both equal in skill. Janie looked up at him and saw how effortlessly he played.

“You must play this game a lot or it comes natural.” Janie said.

He smiled and asked, “Do you want to take a walk? Outside this place?”

It was as if he read her mind. Before Janie knew it, they were outside on a bench. The noises of Grand Prix were far away, but the distance between the two was only fifty yards. The two of them talked – not realizing the time that had gone by. Both their pagers kept going off, but ignored them. Cell phones ringing were ignored, too. It wasn't until the sound of the intercom, asking If Janie and Johnny could come to the front desk, their friends are looking for them, did they stop talking.

Each smiled at one another and at the same time asked, “Is that your name?” Equally laughed, knowing their friends must be beside themselves in a frantic panic.

“How long have we been out here?”

“I don’t know, but we better get in. You think or no, “Johnny asked, squinting a little. Showing he wasn’t too keen on the idea of leaving.

“Let me ask you something”, Janie said playfully, “Why did you ask to take a walk?”

Johnny smiled as if Janie should already know the answer to that question, “Because, I wanted my full attention on you. No distractions. There was no way we would be able to with our friends around. Don’t you agree?”

Janie smiled back and nodded her head yes. As they headed back towards the noise, she knew Johnny’s soul knew hers. It was ironic how all the people she was around seemed strangers but had known since being in diapers, yet being with Johnny had a deep connection which words were not needed. Things were just understood.

Inside, the two groups of friends were standing in the middle of the entrance way. Janie felt the tenseness coming again. Without saying a word, Johnny grabbed her hand. As if to give her strength to face the unknown.

From that moment on, time flew by. Janie only had 3 months to be in Florida. Johnny lived in Miami. The forty-five minute drive back and forth almost every day was nothing for the two that seemed to love one another. They seemed inseparable. If Johnny was at work, Janie was at the beach. No matter how many friends she visited, none of the time with them compared to the hours spent near Johnny. Too many tried flirting with Janie on the beach, but she wasn’t interested. No matter how good looking or how much money – no one compared to Johnny.

He was simple and humble. Come to find out, Johnny had told Janie why he lived in Florida. He, at age 19, was working there to support his sister and mother in New Jersey. Their father died and he was left to be the man of the family. They didn’t want to move, but the money was good in Florida. His heart was kind. It was those things that allowed Janie to trust him. Trust wasn’t easy for her. Being abused and her mother allowing it, had limited how much trust Janie had for people. But with Johnny, none of that mattered.

One day, Janie found out how much the abuse affected her. Johnny was punctual in calling her every day after work. Five Thirty came and went. Next, it was six. By six thirty p.m., Janie laid down and began crying. She didn’t know why. The gut wrenching feeling seemed to consume her entire body. An hour went by after that. It wasn’t until her mother came in and said Johnny was on the phone, did Janie realize she had cried herself to sleep.

“Hi, sweetie. How are you?” Johnny asked sweetly.

The sweetness in his voice seemed to anger Janie. She remained quiet, fearing if she said anything would be cries or words of anger. Johnny begged her to tell her what was wrong. He could sense it. He seemed to sense everything.

Reluctantly, Janie, began speaking, “You didn’t call me. Part of me thought something happened. Then, I thought you didn’t want me anymore. “Janie’s voice became jittery but fluent, “If you don’t want me, then just say it. You don’t have to ignore me. Be a man, and tell me. “

It was at that moment, the words escaped her lips, Janie wished she could take it back because of her tone. She realized how she must sound. “I don’t know why I said..”

Johnny didn’t let her finish, “It’s ok. I’m sorry, I didn’t call. Something happened. Totally crazy and I wasn’t able to use the phone. I was pumping gas and someone drove off, leaving the nozzle still in their car. Gas was all over and cops, ambulance. It was insane. I was there for hours. Then they wanted me to describe the person and wouldn’t let me leave until it was done. Got home, ate, showered, and then called you. Janie, I know your past was bad with your family, but I promise you – I would never hurt you intentionally.”

Janie began to cry a river. So much, she couldn’t breathe. Johnny sat patiently on the phone until it subsided. He kept repeating it will be ok. Janie felt awful. How could she even think anything bad of him. Then,  to speak in such a horrible tone.

“Do you forgive me, “Janie asked, while blowing her nose.

“Janie, there is nothing you can do that would ever make me upset. I love you. I understand you. I know you love me, even though you never say it. You are afraid of loving me since those who loved you, abused you.”

He was right. The phrase, “I love you,” lost meaning long ago. Hearing it from the ones who abused, was hypocrisy at its finest hour. The overwhelming feeling of warmth and safety swept over Janie. She promised from that moment on not to allow her past to represent her present.

Summer came and went. All Janie could think about was how she had to leave Johnny. She didn’t want to. Many arguments exhumed between her parents and she. Her father wanted Janie to finish her senior there, meanwhile her mother was aloof about the entire aspect. Janie’s mother only cared that Johnny wasn’t rich like them. None of that mattered to Janie. She knew Johnny loved her more than anyone would or ever did.

One night, she told Johnny about her plans to run away. She only had a year before turning eighteen and could graduate high school early if she took the tests. Johnny wouldn’t hear of it.

“Janie, you need to go finish school. I didn’t and work like a dog to provide for my family and care for myself. You have so much potential to become something great. Besides, there is this thing called ‘technology’. It helps people stay connected over distance and time.”

Johnny always had a way of putting things in perspective and making her feel secure.

“But, I just want to be with you. I don’t want to leave, but my dad is making me. I know we can talk, but it won’t be the same. I’m afraid that once I go – you will forget about me…about what we have.” Janie’s face didn’t show how she felt – sadness.

“Janie, do you remember the first moment we met? I knew then how I felt. No one mattered but you amongst hundreds. Not my friends I had known for years. Not my past or my burdens. Just knew I must meet the beauty I saw before me. Now that I have, I can never forget. You left an imprint on my heart that no one can remove. Do you understand what I’m saying? I worry more about you feeling that way.”

Later, that evening, Janie and Johnny were at the airport. Sitting there waiting, Johnny cried a little. Janie tried making light of the situation by taking a picture and saying, “Now, here we have a Kodak moment. Strong Johnny crying.” Realizing it was not the time to joke, Janie wiped away his tears. As she looked into his eyes, Einstein’s theory of relativity popped to mind. She finally understood it. Being around Johnny for hours seemed like minutes, awaiting the plane to be away from him seemed hours – even though it was minutes away from happening.

Time went on and Janie and Johnny remained in touch. Even through the distance, they could always feel one another. If something negative was happening – the other would call. Timing seemingly priceless. A year, Janie continued to think, “It’s only a year to be with the love of my life.”

One day, Janie received a phone call from Johnny’s roommate. In a way, she knew it was not good. All day, there had been a feeling of uneasiness and confusion. Her thoughts seemed sporadic. She didn’t know why until she heard Chino’s voice. Her heart dropped to her stomach and a lump seemed caught in her throat. Her body got weak and the room began to spin.

“Janie, this is Chino. Are you sitting down? Please, sit down before I talk.” “I’m sitting”, Janie said sternly.

“Janie…….something happened to Johnny. There was nothing we could do. We were all walking along the strip when out of nowhere a gang war broke out. Many people were shot. This includes Johnny…” Chino’s voice trailed off.

Janie could hear him holding back tears to be strong for her.

“So, he didn’t make it?” Janie asked professionally. “Is there going to be a funeral and where will it be?”

Chino explained that his body was going back home to his mother’s hometown. Offered Janie the information to get ahold of his family. Janie hung up the phone, feeling lost. Or maybe, the news had not sunk in yet. Tears didn’t come and Janie wondered why. All she knew is that never would she attend the funeral and now would be the time to call his mother.

After offering her condolences and hearing all the wonderful things Johnny had told his mother about her, Janie hung up the phone. Feeling numb, she went about her time as if nothing had happened. Days went by, then months. Janie was present in all daily activities, but something was missing. Years went by and always Johnny was present in her mind as if he was by her side. Yet, still – she never cried. One day, in college, Janie had to make a persuasive speech to the class. It was to her final for communications. She decided to persuade people to always go for what they want in life. The story she told was of Johnny and her. Rehearsing the speech, it was at that moment, Janie began to sob.

All the feelings of love that was known through Johnny and how he treated her. How angry she was that someone, out of carelessness for life, took the life of her beloved. How the one person in the world who understood her, was no longer around. All those feelings of loss had her crying. With all her tears, Janie could have filled a small river. The ache she felt the day Johnny didn’t call her right after work, was the same one that crept up and grabbed ahold now. Curling into a ball, Janie fell asleep.

In her dream, Johnny appeared. He stood behind her, as he had awaiting to play the game at Grand Prix. Even his voice was the same when he spoke -sultry, “Janie, don’t be upset. Do not look at what you have lost, but what you have gained. See my death, but don’t wallow in it. Celebrate the time in which I was there. I love you.”

Within moments, Janie awoke. Still feeling as if the dream was reality. Maybe the dream was her subconscious. Maybe it was truly him coming through to that other realm scientists cannot completely explain. Whichever it was, didn’t matter. The words were truth.

Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”


I was meant to meet Marley at noon. We had the whole day planned. We were having our first beach day of the summer. Despite the harsh temperatures and the fact that it was mid-July, we hadn’t yet had the pleasure of embarking on a journey to the sandy shores where the ocean waves licked at your toes and seagulls begged for a morsel of your lunch. We’d both been hard at work this summer at our respective jobs. I worked at a local restaurant where the onslaught of insane customers and tireless shifts was made up for by the astronomical tips I made on these hot summer days. Marley worked two jobs. One was at an ice cream parlor, where she scooped mint chocolate chip and raspberry sorbet for giggling groups of teens and adults with hordes of children in tow. Her second job was at a boat docking place, essentially a gas station for boats. Marley had no shame in wearing her skimpiest shorts, if they could be classified as such, and bikini top to the delight of the rich, old men stopping for a fill-up. Often times she made more tips than I did on a double shift at the restaurant.

But today was different. We had this day planned out for weeks now. We’d been saving up our time, making certain we requested this day off long in advance. It was gorgeous out. The local news boasted a blissful 75 degrees. I’d already had three people text me, begging me to take their shift, with half-hearted promises of “I owe you.” However, as I said before, today was different. Today was mine and Marley’s day.

The phone was ringing but no one was picking up. “Ugh, where are you?” I asked out loud, though I was the least bit surprised she was running late. She always did this. Just as I was feeling truly dejected, I saw Marley pulling up in her bright red jeep. I smiled to myself, giddy for the first time in a while. “It’s about time!” I exclaimed as she pulled up. Slowly though, my expression shifted from one of elation to that of pure annoyance. “Heyyyyy Suzie-Q!!! What’s up?” “Oh, hey Blake,” I forced a smile that was better classified as a grimace. “Marley, do you think I could talk to you for a second?” A brief glance at Blake sent him to occupy his time where he devoted studious attention to the grass blades growing through the concrete sidewalk. “Hey Suziekins, sooo I know this was supposed to be just the two of us, but Blake texted me out of the blue and he had the day off and-“ “OF COURSE HE HAD THE DAY OFF, HE DOESN’T HAVE A JOB!!!” I exploded in a huffed rage. “We planned this out for WEEKS, Marley. I was looking forward to spending some quality time with you!” “Well, you still can! It’ll just be the three of us, you’ll hardly notice Blake is there!” She smiled, giving me a doe-eyed expression. “I guess it’s better than nothing. I’m not wasting this day off, after all.”

I always succumbed to her wishes despite my own desires. she’s my best friend after all. “Alright, Blake!” called out Marley, “Get back in the car.” I took a step in front of the passenger side door, certain about one thing. “Back seat, Blake.” “Oooh Suzie-Q, I like it when you’re feisty,” Blake made a clawing motioning in the air as he hopped into the back of the jeep. “LET’S GOOO!!! Beach day!!” We all cheered in unison as Marley sped off down the highway. It’s often the things in life that we don’t expect, those little surprises, that make for the most interesting stories. I recall a time from years ago when I was just a child, playing in my backyard. I spied a monstrous-sized rabbit lumbering through the bushes and decided to follow it into the woods, thinking it might lead me to Wonderland. Instead, the furry beast led me to a little hovel where seven newborn bunnies snuggled together. Each was a little bit of wonder, though not the kind I had anticipated. A few seconds later, another little girl came running through the woods opposite me. She has on a sunshine yellow sundress with matching ribbons in her hair.

“Hi,” said the little girl, “I’m Marley.” “Hi,” I said tentatively, “I’m Suzie.” When we finally made it to the beach, it was mobbed. This was to be expected considering the perfect weather, on a Saturday, no less.

“Man, it’s crowded,” exclaimed Blake. “Don’t worry,” Marley smirked, “I’ve got this under control.” As I unloaded our things from the back of the jeep, I watched as Marley stripped down to a seductive red bikini. Her hours at the boat dock had paid off because her sun-kissed complexion only caused my pasty white skin to grow ever brighter in comparison. She left me and Blake behind, as she walked to the nearest lifeguard stand in what could only be described as a sensual walk. Didn’t she realize children were present?

The lifeguard hopped down from his post, shirtless and glistening. I couldn’t help but think of all the potential drownings or other accidents that may occur whilst his gaze was diverted. However, my attention was quickly overtaken by a rather lanky looking boy, running to catch a frisbee. Instead of successfully catching it, he face-planted into the sand, causing a burst of rapturous laughter from his nearby group of friends. “Alright guys, I got us a spot!” Marley exclaimed. She ushered us over to the lifeguard who was clearing a family of four from the beach, insisting that too much sun wasn’t good for the children. “I don’t feel right about this,” I said to Marley. “Which part? Me using my body for our benefit or helping that mother who obviously wanted to go home hours ago.” Marley quipped back. I let out of sigh of defeat and laid out my towel on the soft sand, eager to catch up on my summer tan that had yet to begin. “See you girls in the water!”

And with a flash, Blake was gone. Marley turned to me, a slight look of triumph in her expression. “See?” she said, “I told you he wouldn’t be a problem.” “I guess so. But why did you have to invite him in the first place?” “I felt bad for him. He’s got no friends but us.” Marley sighed. “I wouldn’t say he’s my friend….” “Okay, Suziekins. Whatever you say.” I laid out on my towel in that hot summer sun, warming me from head to toe. The sound of laughing children and crashing waves cradled me into a soft slumber and my mind drifted to the goofy boy I saw playing frisbee when we’d first arrived. Just as my mind melded into a place of blissful existence, I felt something tiny and wet hit my back, and again. Oh no, I thought, was this perfect day ruined because of the rain, or was Blake simply standing over me, soaking wet from his trip in the water. And then I felt more drops that didn’t feel like water. It felt light and almost…cold. Maybe it was sand, being kicked up by running passerby. “Hey...Suzie.” I heard Marley but chose to ignore her, as I simply wanted to keep daydreaming about Frisbee boy. “OH MY GOSH GUYS!!!!!” Blake screamed at a volume that jolted me out of my sleepy state. “IT’S FREAKING SNOWING!!!!” I slowly turned over and watched in awe as tiny white bits fell lazily down and began to fall all across the sand. “What in the world…” I trailed off as there were really no words to describe what exactly was going on. How was it snowing in the middle of July? “Well, it’s kind of beautiful, isn’t it?” Marley smiled softly and stared out into the distance. All across the beach, the activity stopped. People just looked in wonderment as snowflakes danced through the air, landing on towels and beach balls, ocean soaked hair, and sun-kissed noses. And then, as if some mysterious presence had pressed play, people began to stir. Children danced around barefoot hopping in the sand, attempting to catch the snowflakes on their tongues. This included Blake, who ran around with his mouth agape as if he hadn’t had a bite to eat in days. I rolled my eyes but Marley giggled and hopped up to join him. Despite the intense heat from before, the snow began to accumulate the tiniest bit and I watched as Frisbee boy and his friends crafted golfball-sized snowballs. I lay back down, watching the snow drifting lazily towards me, certain that if I were to lay their long enough, no one could define me from the snow and the snow from me. Each time a snowflake hit me, my forehead, my arm, my toe, my nose, my whole body tingled as if to say, “Get indoors,” or “Put on a coat.” But it was not cold. The heat from the day still radiated from the ground. I looked to the sky and imagined I was in a snow globe. One moment, it was a perfectly peaceful day and the next my world exploded in a dusting of chilly, white fluff. I opened my mouth, eager to taste the chilly treat. As much as the sun brought comfort and warmth, the snow brought life and alertness. I was aware of the beauty of this moment, with no expectations of work, or family, or life. I could live in this unexplained moment, this unnatural phenomenon where I was neither the cause nor could I stop the occurrence. I simply had the joy of living and existing in this very weird moment in time. My mouth widened into a smile and I became giddy with joy. I jumped up, suddenly eager to join Marley and Blake in their pursuit of the snowflakes. My mind was set and I- “Oooof,” I raised my hand to my head, suddenly a little dizzy, barely registering a blue frisbee out of my peripheral vision. “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!!!! My stupid friends threw it. Well, I’m the real idiot who couldn’t catch it.” I looked up to find Frisbee boy, smiling apologetically and offering to buy me an ice cream in exchange for not pressing charges for the damage done by his misguided frisbee. “Oh, it’s really okay!” I exclaimed, still giddy from the snow and frazzled from the sudden blunt impact. “Yeah, I guess snow and ice cream don’t really mix, huh?” He gave me that big goofy grin I first noticed when we arrived at the beach. “Stranger things have happened, I suppose.” I was smiling ear to ear and my heart thumped with vigor as if the rabbit from my childhood had made a guest appearance inside my chest. “I’m Samuel, by the way,” He stuck out his hand. I grabbed it, giving him a firm shake, “I’m Suzie.” It’s funny how life brings us just where we need to be. A day I thought I had certain control over; with my friend, the weather, and the perfect beach bliss, turned into something entirely new. It turned into something great. We must have the greatest expectations in life, but when life throws a curveball, or a snowball, in this case, we can only have even greater expectations for the journey and the wonderful moments these unexpected occurrences hold.


“By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire, and the wind had picked up,” Annie Arthur said. “Catherine and Blake Bevins lived in that house you know. They moved in here in November, nineteen eighty-seven…no, eighty-eight.  It was raining the day the Bevins family moved into our little community. I baked them a welcome cake as soon as I saw the moving van pull into the drive. It was one of my famous chocolate cakes, with buttercream icing. I have never met anyone who didn’t enjoy one of my homemade chocolate cakes,” Annie said. “They took the cake but they did not thank me and they never returned my plate. That is not right. You expect boorish behavior from young people who don’t always follow social norms, I suppose. But Catherine and Blake were middle-aged when they moved in next door. They were old enough to know how to follow the rules, which they did not. I am not passing judgement, mind you, I’m just stating facts.

The fact is, I told them there was a city ordinance against leaf burning. The ordinance was instated in August of ’87.”  Annie smiled at Officer Wilkes. “You were probably toddling around in diapers back then, but your partner will remember all the hoopla over the decision.  There was talk, for months, about the city stripping us citizens of our “rights”. Annie shook her head. “Foolishness is it was. Plain and simple. Leaf burning was dangerous and not a bit good for the environment. Remember how folks carried on, Officer…” Annie leaned forward, squinting at the officer’s nametag. “Parker? Officer Parker? Are you any relation to Elana Parker?” “Elana Parker is,” he shrugged, and gave a small shake of his head. “Elena Parker was my mother ma’am.” Annie recoiled as though the big man had slapped her. She pressed one hand to her chest and reached for the officer’s hand with the other. “Do not tell me Elana has passed on.” Officer Parker nodded, “It was two years in May ma’am. Cancer. Now, about your report of a fire…” “Oh dear. I had no idea about your mother.  Elena and I attended school together, West Lake Elementary, and then West Lake High. She was a lovely girl. We lost track of one another, as people will do.” “Yes ma’am,” Officer Parker said again. “About the fire…” “I told Catherine and Blake that burning leaves was not permitted. I saw them raking all afternoon, on the day of the fire. I heard them too. They made such a racket out there all year round. It didn’t matter if it was hot or cold, rain or shine, they were out in that yard of theirs, making a ruckus. They talked about installing a pool, but I told them there was an ordinance against pools. I’m sure they didn’t take my word for it, but I know they were angry when they learned I’d been right. So, they bought a child’s wading pool, if you can imagine. A grown couple splashing around in a child’s wading pool. Those two thumbed their noses at authority every chance they got. It was shameful, the way they carried on.” “Miss Arthur,” Officer Wilkes said. “If we could just focus on the fire…” “There is no need to be rude, young man.” Annie said, testily. “And it’s Mrs. Arthur. I was married to my Henry, for fifty-eight wonderful years. Henry passed away five years ago.” she looked at Officer Parker. “Henry had cancer too. Though, surely not the same as your mother’s. Henry’s cancer was,” she glanced down and whispered, “in his privates, poor soul.”

“You have my condolences, ma’am,” Officer Parker said. Annie raised her head and nodded. “We never had children. We wanted them, but we weren’t blessed in that way.  I overheard a couple of the ladies in my church circle talking about my Henry just after he passed. That old busybody, Millie Post, had the nerve to suggest Henry’s cancer was the reason we never had children. Can you imagine gossiping about such thing? Unchristian, it was. I quit that church that instant. Removed my apron and walked out of Fellowship hall and never went back. When Pastor Upton called, to inquire after my health, I told him my health and my soul were no longer any of his concern.” “Mrs. Arthur—”  “Oh, young man, I wouldn’t mind in the least if you called me Annie.” She smiled sadly. “There are so few people left, anymore, who call me by my given name. A person needs to hear someone call them by name every now and then, don’t you agree.” “Annie,” said Officer Parker, patiently.  “We would like to talk to you about the fire you reported.” “Yes,” Annie said. “I told Chief Cummings I heard strange noises and ‘ by the time I stepped outside the leaves were on fire ’. He took me at my word. We talked about how times had changed; how leaf burning had been an autumn ritual for most of our lives, about what a nice job Henry did building our burn pit and what a shame it was that such a well-built pit would not be of any further use.  Of course, once the ordinance passed, we stopped burning leaves and packed them up properly, in bags we dragged to the curb. That’s what folks who followed the rules did.” “Yes, ma’am,” Officer Parker said. “You’re suggesting there was a fire on the lot next to yours. On the west side of your house. That would be—” “Don’t be condescending, young man. I know where the west side of my house is. That’s the side with the empty lot.” “Correct, Mrs.—Annie,” Officer Wilkes said. “There is an empty lot next to your house. There hasn’t been a structure on that land in years, so you can understand our confusion over your call reporting a house fire at that location.” “The fire in question occurred in 1997. Catherine and Blake were inside the house, sleeping when the fire started,” Annie said.  Officer Parker said. “It seems the couple how lived there had been burning leaves, that afternoon, and that evening, the wind picked up and blew embers up onto the roof. It had been an especially dry year, and the roof caught fire.”  Annie nodded. “It’s a shame those two were not better neighbors.” “You had issues with the Bevins family?” Officer Parker asked.

“Yes, as I’ve been telling you,” Annie said. “They were rule breakers.” “And that caused friction between you?” asked Officer Parker. “Henry was the peacemaker,” Annie said. “But Henry is gone now and there is no peace to be made.  I have no children. I’m estranged from my church family and far too old to establish new relationships. Everyone I ever knew and cared about has passed on and I’ve received this,” she reached into her handbag and took out an envelope addressed to Anya Arthyr. Officer Parker took the notice and read it. “Your home has been condemned, Annie.” he said, grimly.

“The city inspector says it’s structurally unsound and not safe for you to live there any longer.”  Annie nodded. “The city sends me a letter saying they are taking away my home, and they don’t even bother to spell my name properly. Do you think that’s right?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, I don’t,” said Officer Parker. “We can direct you to Social Services, someone there will be able to help you.” “Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” Annie said. “I am 83 years old; it’s time I face the music.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Officer Wilkes. “I lit the fire that burned down the Bevins house,” Annie said. “I did it to teach them a lesson, not that I’m excusing my behavior. I heard them talking, while they were raking leaves. They were supposed to go out of town that night. They raked the leaves into big piles, instead of bagging the leaves they way they were supposed to. They laughed about how they were going to show me where I could stick my ‘ordinances’ . They said they were going to light the piles before they left town. Catherine said she was sorry they wouldn’t be there to see the look on my snoopy old face when the fires took hold. Blake said it would be a real tragedy if the wind picked up and blew embers into my yard. Well sir, must admit, that got my dander up. So, after Henry went to bed, I went outside and lit the leaf piles myself. I can’t say I meant for the house to catch fire, but I can’t say I’m sorry it did. The fact that the Chief did a poor job of inspecting the scene does not mean a crime was not committed.” “You are confessing to the crime of setting your neighbors leaf piles on fire?” asked Officer Wilkes. “Yes young man” Annie said. She stood and held out both hands. “Time has robbed me of my loved ones and the city is taking my home. I have no family or friends to care for me, and what little money Henry left me is gone.  I’ve confessed to the crimes of arson and homicide, you have no choice but to arrest and imprison me.” “Your confession will need to be investigated,” Officer Parker said. "As of now, we have no proof a crime was committed." “You have no proof that a crime was not committed,” Annie countered. “I am not a liar, but I lied to Chief Cummings. The truth is, when I stepped outside, the leaves were not on fire.”