      “You’ll be alone for the rest of your life!”

           Todd departed from Natalie’s world with the slam of the front door. She gripped her forehead and attempted to scrub away the last 5 years of her existence. How had she ignored the red flags for this long? Todd wasn’t worth a moment more of her headspace. She evicted him with a final tear.              Natalie Romance figured her ancestors had cursed themselves in the love department by continuing on with such a mushy last name. If she’d been born a “Jones” or “Carter”, maybe she would’ve stood a chance at finding her “happily-ever-after”. She tossed herself backwards, burying her face in the pillow. Why had she decided to break up with Todd on Christmas Eve? She would have to return his present. It wouldn’t be today though. She had 50 minutes before she had to be at work. What horrible timing this was, but it was his fault, not hers.            The final straw had come when she had seen him flirting with what’s-her-name at the coffee shop yesterday morning! Not any ole coffee shop. NATALIE’S coffee shop. She didn’t actually own it, but the guy who did, Eric, joked she came in often enough to at least have stock in it. And this is something Todd ought to have known. He probably did it on purpose, to rub it in her face. So many red flags. She half-growled, half-screamed into her pillow. Enough!              She jerked herself upright and threw open her closet door. A power suit. Yes, that’s what she needed to tackle this day. She would have the rest of the week off, so she’d invest everything she had into this work day. The apple red blouse had ribbing along the side, enhancing her fit figure. The pencil skirt had enough give to be respectable. The grey pumps offered her 5’2” height the boost it lacked.               She refused to change her routine. Eric had been privy to the beginning of the end of her sad relationship, but he had her coffee. She would not cower from her favorite spot and friendly banter with Eric because of an insensitive ex-boyfriend.              “What’s happen’, Natalin?” Eric’s beaming smile greeted her.              Natalie chuckled under her breath. He had misheard her name the first time she had come here. She’d corrected him, but somehow it had stuck as their inside joke.

            “Nothing much, but make my regular a venti, please.” Her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.

           Her mind couldn’t revisit the subject so soon. “Don’t ask. Don’t bring it up.” She silently pleaded.             Thankfully, Eric seemed to be a mind-reader and kept their conversation light and airy. She appreciated that about Eric. He had the ability to keep topics flowing without a hint of awkwardness. That was probably the reason he had been able to get her to open up to him on so many occasions. He knew almost everything about her by this point.             Her ruminations were interrupted when he threw her a curveball. “Hey, listen, after you get off, you mind coming back around 7:00p.m.? It’s my night to run the leftover food to the shelter. I would love for you to join me! It never fails to bless me more than the hungry people, especially around the Christmas season.”

           “Oh, sure!” Eric’s contribution to the shelter was legendary throughout the town. It’s why Natalie had started coming in the first place. It touched her how much he gave to the needy. “I’ll catch ya later then!”

          Natalie hardly glanced up on her way to the newsstand. Her feet guided her without assistance, following her habitual path. Her journalistic nature would not allow her to enter the news building without taking a look at the competition’s headlines for the day. Banner had learned to expect her and kept a fresh paper to the side for her. She appreciated his thoughtful personality, especially on this unforgiving day of hers.

          “Natalie! You’re looking great! How ya doin’?” Banner’s call rang out above the commuters rushing around her.

          “I’m here, Banner. That’s about it. How are you?” Natalie smiled at the simple joy shining from his eyes. She had never seen him angry or frustrated. How refreshing he was!            “Things are good! I closed on that office space! I’m hitting the big time!”            She laughed. “You’re not gonna forget us little people once you’re rich and famous, right?”

          “Natalie, I could never forget you.” His features sobered so quickly, she had to blink twice at him to catch up. “In fact, I want to show you the new place. You want to stop by on your walk home? It’s right around the corner, and I could give you a tour!”

            Surprised though she was, she would never turn down Banner’s invite. His friendly compassion had soothed her on more than one occasion. “I would love to! As long as I’m done by 5:30, I should be good!”

            “Oh, got a ...um… hot date with Eric?” Banner’s eyes had clouded over, and Natalie could no longer see his inner beauty. What was this about?             She drew in a deep breath. “No, actually, we’re no longer together.”

             The grin which stretched across Banner’s face shocked Natalie a little, but she ignored it. His gushing “see ya later!” followed her along the sidewalk.              As she entered the front doors of the building, the receptionist called her name to pass along her messages. Natalie scanned them as she hurried to the elevators. She needed to talk to Anthony, her boss, before returning any calls. He had an annoying habit of forgetting time-off, and she wanted to remind him of her 5-day vacation starting tomorrow. Obliviously, Natalie entered the opening elevator doors, only to bowl over Roger.

             “Whoa! I’m so sorry!” She hastened to remove her hands from his well-formed chest, fingers tingling.

             Roger righted his dripping coffee cup. “Hey, it’s alright! I still got some left in the cup. I’ll survive.” He regarded her intently. “Usually, you’re gone when I leave for work, but you were home this morning. Are you ok? You look a little down.”

            Roger had been the first person Natalie had met upon moving into her apartment complex. He lived next door, and nothing seemed to get past him. Maybe it was because he was a photographer.

   “Thanks for asking, Roger.” Might as well rip the band aid off. He would notice the lack of Eric soon enough. She sighed. “Eric and I broke up.”             “Well, it’s about time!” Roger exclaimed.            Natalie gasped. “What??”            “He was a jerk. He never remembered your birthday, and I sensed a passive aggressiveness to him that made me want to punch him in between the eyes.” Roger’s fists flexed.             Natalie’s eyes rounded. It wasn’t the size of Roger’s body-builder biceps which caused her to take a step back but his overwhelming protectiveness which underlined every word he spoke. What a kind neighbor she had! “Thanks for that, Roger. It’s nice to be looked after.”

            “There’s more where that came from. I’ll see ya around, ok? I gotta bring more pictures to Anthony. He’s hired me full-time for y’all’s paper. That makes five contracts I've added to my portfolio this week alone! Business is soaring!” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be around, Shorty.”              Natalie worked to put indignation into her response. “Good for you, Goliath!” But a secret smile filled her face at his familiar farewell.              The top floor opened to reveal Anthony’s receptionist who announced her via speakerphone. Anthony’s disembodied voice boomed back, telling her to enter.              Before she could speak, Anthony took over. He hustled around to plant her in a leather seat in front of his massive oak desk. “Just the girl I wanted to see!“             Natalie brushed away the bristle forming from his egotistical greeting. “Morning, Anthony. I’m just here to…”             He didn’t even pause. “Have I ever told you how much you mean to this company? We’re growing! We’re going places. I’m glad to have you by my side. When we take over The Generation newspaper in this town, I’m taking you with me. We’re going to be bigger than ever! There’s no stopping us now!”             As Anthony took a breath, Natalie attempted to interrupt his flow, but it was hopeless. “Yes, but I’m only wanting to…”              “Nothing’s holding me back. But, there is something you can assist me with… I have yet to establish myself as a traditional family man. I’ve come to realize the people of this town take that seriously. If I’m to advance up the ladder of fame and prominence, I'm gonna need to change a few things. This is where you come in.” His gaze halted her to stillness.                Her inner monologue took up a chant. “Please, don’t. Please, don’t.”                “I don’t want you by my side simply for the paper.“ He strung her along in suspense as he held her captive with his blue eyes. “I want you by me for life. Say you’ll do it. Say you’ll be my bride! Renown and prestige await you!” His self-satisfied smirk sickened her.

                She had to strategize. How to get out of this and keep her job? Anthony was a great boss, but a life partner? Absolutely not. He had never asked about her likes or dislikes. Every group outing for team building activities inevitably ended with Anthony being the center of attention. She couldn’t do it. A brilliant lightbulb pinged through her brain. “Anthony, I thought you knew… I’ve been trying to set you up with Betsy from accounting for months! She’s over the moon for you and has just the go-getter spirit which would support your endeavors. She’s got a squeaky-clean background. No skeletons for other press members to dig up. I hear her cooking is great too! A far cry better than my own! Betsy’s the one you want, sir!” Natalie hoped she was portraying innocence.                 “No way! Is that true? Betsy. Hmm.” He mulled it over as if it were a potential front-page runner. “I can see it. Good point, Natalie! Now, what are you still doing here? Don’t you have an article to write for me?”               True to form, Anthony spun it around to appear like the idea had come from him. Natalie didn’t mind. The pressure was off her, and Betsy truly was infatuated with Anthony. Maybe, this was a perfect match! “I did want to remind you about my 5-day PTO starting tomorrow.” She slipped it in as she rose to exit.

              “Of course! Take all the time you need. I’ll send ya a wedding invite when the time comes.” He winked at her.               Natalie stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Jumping back into the elevator, she mentally reviewed her lineup of eyewitness accounts which she had scheduled. An 80-year-old woman was coming in an hour to give her the scoop on a knitting scam. A seven-year-old was coming by with his mom around 11:00a.m. to share about his charity creation. Then at 2:00p.m., Wayne would be bringing his weekly predictions on the mayor’s race. She had told him more than once, he could just email her, but he never took her up on that. Their conversations tended to last an hour. She couldn’t understand her inability to resist the man. He always arrived with a small gift which never ceased to amaze her at the relativity of it. He brought her exactly what she needed without her even recognizing her desire for said object. A pencil sharpener for her desk made her life more convenient. A purse with a built-in phone charger prevented her from having to chase after outlets. She smiled and wondered what Wayne would bring today.

            Natalie’s non-stop responsibilities came to a screeching halt when two hands descended over her eyes.            “Guess who!!”

           Her subconscious immediately recognized the deep bass. “Wayne! I know that’s you!”            “Hey, Darlin’, so good to see you!” Wayne leaned over for a hug. “Got ya something!”            Natalie chuckled. “Can’t wait ‘til the end of the interview today, huh?”            “No,” Wayne’s somber answer caused her to focus on the square package in his grasp. “No, Natalie. I don’t think I can wait one more second.”

            Her heart beat at a staccato rate as she took the tiny box from him. She ripped the packaging off to reveal black velvet beneath. Natalie was dumbfounded.             Wayne took it and flipped it open. The sparkling diamond arrested her attention. What was happening? He presented it to her. “Will you… marry me? I’ve…”             “Wayne, stop!” She couldn’t let him continue. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. Are you aware I’ve been in a relationship for the past five years?” She couldn’t help the exasperation seeping into her voice. He had never genuinely talked to her about anything deep. He must think he understood her, but Wayne was completely off base.              “But do you love that guy? I bet not. I’ve been right here, buying ya stuff, making you laugh. I’ve been a distraction, haven’t I? That guy isn’t me, so I know he isn’t the one for you! Give me a chance!” Wayne grabbed her hand.              Natalie stuffed her annoyance and spoke gently. “The answer is no. I believe it would be best if you email me the predictions this time. We can both take a breather from this conversation.” She glanced around. Fortunately, no one had noticed. She didn’t wish to embarrass the man.               Wayne lurched away, clutching the tiny, black box to his chest. “Alright, Darlin’, but I’ll be asking again. I don’t give up that easily.”              “I’d really rather you didn’t.” Natalie said firmly. “We aren’t a good fit. I’ll email you about work-related stuff. That’s it. Bye, Wayne.”              Her afternoon passed with a blurry speed, leaving her winded. How had she ended a relationship and received two proposals in the span of 8 hours? At least, she had the meeting with Banner. Spending time with a buddy would balance out her emotional distress.

             She left by 4:55p.m. and trotted toward Banner’s newsstand. Having closed up his shop, he proffered his arm and led her down the block and around a corner.

            “Here we are, my good lady.” Banner popped his keys in the lock and held the door for her.             “Wow, this is fantastic! Thanks for giving me the chance at first glance!” She spun to get the full effect.              However, the sight behind her paralyzed her. This could not be happening again. Was she dreaming?              Banner was down on one knee, ring box in hand. “Natalie, I feel like I finally have something to offer you. With Todd out of the picture, I can begin to express my innermost feelings to you. I love you. Please, will you do me the honor of…”              “No, no, no! Banner, please get up.” Natalie clutched her brow in horror. “I can’t lose you as a friend. I simply can’t take that today. You are a constant in my life, and I treasure your kindness. Don’t finish that proposal if you care about me at all. Keep searching for your dream girl.”                Banner bowed his head for a moment. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears when he pierced her with his green-eyed stare. “Ok, Natalie. I’m crushed, but I’ll try to do what you say. I’ll look forward to seeing you after your vacation.” He never rose, but his defeated crouch remained in Natalie’s vision as she fled the premises.                Her cheeks were wet when she reached Eric’s coffee shop. She scrubbed her face and knocked. He shouted a hello and jogged to the locked entrance.              “Come on. I’m loading my car through the exit in the rear. You can help!”             The lugging and tugging of packed food seemed so ordinary Natalie began to relax. Surely, her night would be boring. She needed boring right now.             “That’ll do it!” Eric stepped aside as she tossed the last bag into his trunk, slamming it shut after her deposit. He pivoted towards her and ran his hands up and down her arms. “I appreciate you doing this with me. You know, Natalin, you deserve to be adored. I’ve been thinking… we’d make a great match. What say we get ourselves hitched? Something quick. Courthouse wedding sound good? I’d love for you to be my wife.”                Natalie clung to his coat lapels out of pure survival instinct. What had become of her life? Should she accept? He treated her right and didn’t try to change her. But no, she couldn’t. She wanted more. She wanted sparks. “I’m sorry, Eric. I can’t. I’ve got to go.” She ran as if a fiery chariot pursued her.

              She was sobbing as she attempted to insert her key into her locked front door. Before she succeeded, another door opened behind her. She felt the electrical current which preceded Roger announcing himself. He simply placed his hands on her shoulders.              “Allow me.” He took her keys and let her into her own apartment. “Come here.”

            He bundled her against him on the couch, wrapped in a huge, fluffy blanket. “Short stuff, I hate you like this. Tell me about it?”

           Her entire day spilled out between sobs. “And really, Roger, if I had dreamed of anyone proposing, it would’ve been you!” She sucked in a breath, fully realizing what she had confessed. She loved him. She saw it now. Why had she wasted so many years?             He swallowed. She peered up at him in fear of his rejection. He cleared his throat. “Shorty, I’ve been carrying something around with me since before you began dating Todd. When you did, I tried to forget about my plan, but I couldn’t.”

            Holding her tight with one arm, he fished something from his pocket with the other. Natalie knew what it was before she saw it. This time, she would say yes with all her heart!


Staring down at the two pearly white boxes she knew she had a tough decision to make. "Anna" called out Isabelle distracting the girl for a moment, Isabelle Anna's best friend since Kindergarten was as jolly as any young teenage girl should be. Although Anna wasn't as carefree as Isabelle was, she sure felt as carefree and as pure as a bird when she pirouetted gently across the ballet stage. "Hurry up and choose a pair Anna! we are going to be late for dance practice" Isabelle shouted over to Anna as she traced her fingertips along the pretty tutu's that were worn by stiff cold looking mannequin's before leaving the store to wait outside. Sighing Anna turned to look back at the pearly white boxes that hid inside of them two beautiful pairs of ballet slippers. How was she supposed to choose only one pair? LIFE was hard enough already with difficult choices everywhere she turned, How was she supposed to choose between the dark sooty black pair and the bright ruby red pair?

Almost like choosing between playing the villain or the hero, this decision, like all other decisions made Anna want to cry. Asking for a second opinion would be of no use, after all Anna never took other people's opinions seriously. Captivated by the two pairs of slippers Anna hardly even noticed a boy around her own age walk up behind her. "Still deciding?" he asked from behind the girl's shoulder causing Anna to jump up in surprise. "Who are you?" Anna asked, angry with the raven haired boy for interrupting her when she was trying to make a very important decision. "I'm nobody, you on the other hand are very bad at choosing between things, aren't you?" the boy asked cockily, tilting his head to the side as he stared at the two boxes that Anna held in her hand. Before the girl could even reply the strange boy knelt down beside her and took out one shoe from the two pairs saying "Although I've never seen one wear odd slippers before I do think that these would suit you rather well". Saying nothing else the boy stood up and walked away leaving Anna alone with her thoughts. Practice that evening was more complicated than ever before. As Anna danced along with the music she couldn’t get the strange boy’s face out of her head. Why for once did her indecisiveness start to slip away like melted ice. As if her imaginary shield had worn off Anna didn’t feel as scared or as cautious of life anymore. It was almost as if the strange boy had given her a glimpse of hope, when in this world hope was in short supply. Maybe she was overthinking it but she felt as though the boy’s calm aura had stayed with her. Too distracted by her thoughts Anna excused herself from practice for the first time and decided to walk home. Walking home in the pitch dark Anna didn’t feel as scared or as lonely as she used to. Strangely she felt comforted by the mystery aura which followed her home. Upon entering her empty house Anna went to the living room and lit a warm fire. On cold nights like this Anna felt lonelier than ever but tonight she could feel the presence of someone else in the room. Going over to her dad’s old rusty vinyl player Anna placed hers and her dad’s favourite vinyl onto the player and waited for the beautiful music to begin to play. Wearing her new slippers Anna danced and twirled around the living room as she laughed and smiled, enjoying the warm atmosphere that felt comforting to her. “Father don’t you just love this song” the young Anna asked her father who sat lazily in his armchair watching his young daughter dance around the room, the orange light from the fireplace glowing across the room. “Yes sweetheart, you dance perfectly to this song. I think this song was made for you” he said as he watched his daughter's face light up with a smile. “Come dance with me Father” Anna lay awake that night fondly reminiscing about her father who did everything for her. “Don’t worry It’s just a bit of thunder nothing to be afraid of” he used to say when she would sob into his neck afraid of the loud crashes and bright flashes of a thunderstorm. “One day I want to be a brave ballerina who isn’t afraid of anything” she had told him one night as they watched the bolts of lightning in the distance, from their living room window. “You will be one day and when you are, I’ll be there to see it” A few weeks later, Anna was smiling at her reflection in the mirror of the backstage dressing room. Anna was ready, she had been practicing for this day her entire life. Looking down at her odd pair of pointe slippers Anne felt like crying with happiness but also despair. Three years ago on a snowy winter's day her father, who had been driving home from work, got into a car accident and slipped into a coma. Since Anna had no other family apart from her precious father, it had been her decision to turn off her father's life support when it became clear he wasn't going to recover. Ever since that dreadful day Anna had struggled to make important decisions as she feared that the consequences would be too hard to deal with. But now as she waited to be called onto the stage, Anna felt as though her odd pair of pointe slippers would help her to glide across the stage just like she'd always dreamed about. Perhaps if she really focused, she might even see her father watching on proudly as his daughter floated along with the music, like a true ballerina. Walking onto the stage with her head held high and her legs steady, Anne caught a glimpse of a familiar looking raven haired boy sitting next to an elderly man who's eyes glistened when they caught hers. The music began and as a single tear drop fell down her cheek, Anne glided along the stage finally feeling like she had found her home again.


I have attended many graduation ceremonies through the years. First as a student, then as a professor, now as a psychologist for Repair Hope. This graduation was a bit special. Rhiannon Tremayne is simply, one of a kind. As her psychologist, I am proud to be part of this moment in her life. Cary Alden, my dear friend, and founder of Repair Hope sat on my right and on my left the indispensable Mrs. McCarthy, the household chatelaine.

Cary sat up tall as the president of the Hospitality and Culinary Arts program moved toward the platform. I saw Mrs. M. retrieve a hankie from her purse with which to dab her eyes. A smile crossed my face as I saw Rhiannon standing in line. We were all so proud of her. She snuck a quick look back to see where we were seated.

The President of the College began to read names. As I watched Rhiannon walk across the stage to accept her diploma I felt a deep sense of pride. Her radiant smile was nearly as big as her petite frame. She looked very sophisticated in the beautiful cyan blue suit Mrs. M. gifted to Rhiannon for this auspicious day. She looked so different from the day I met her at the Repair Hope office.

 Rhiannon and I came to Cary Alden’s Repair Hope network like wounded falcons. The Cary did not clip our wings to keep us safe. Instead, Repair Hope tethered us to a foundation of life until we were ready to fly on our own. Hope never breaks the desire to soar it affixes one to a focal point to which we can return time and time again for strength.

After the graduation ceremony there was a party at the Repair Hope house/office. (they were one and the same) The Tremayne family, Rhiannon’s parents and siblings, had come to celebrate with their college graduate.  I stood talking to a few of the young people Rhiannon invited to the party when Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne came and stood by my elbow. I excused myself from my current companions to address them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tremayne, I’m Emma James it is wonderful to meet you.” I said. Rhiannon was such a lovely girl it was obvious they’d done an excellent job raising her.

Mrs. Tremayne, a bubbly woman about my age, said “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you Dr. James.”

“Call me Emma, please. I feel so old when people call me Dr. James.” I laughed.

Mr. Tremayne said “You’ve done wonders with our daughter. We expected that one day Rhiannon would do great things, but we never would have fathomed how far she’d come in just a short time. She’s polished and professional!”

“I assure you it’s all Rhiannon’s doing. She was very motivated to learn! She soaks up all that she can from those willing to invest in her education. Your family has been her inspiration.” I replied happily.

Just then Rhiannon walked up to her parents and spoke, “Mom and Dad, it’s time for me to change into my uniform. I’m going to help Mrs. McCarthy prepare the food right in front of everyone! Why don’t you come sit down? I’ve already seated the rest of the family.

They drifted off to the dining room where the food prep was about to take place. Mrs. McCarthy and Rhiannon were very excited about the demonstration.

As the dishes were brought from the Kitchen for preparation I moved to the back of the room. My mind began to drift back to when I first met Cary Alden. I became acquainted with Cary on the heels of his graduation from medical school. He was already a talented surgeon. Hospitals all over the world were clamoring for him. I was a PhD candidate at State University of Albany. I was young and ambitious. Cary dreamt of helping the world through medicine. I was competing to become a professor of social psychology. I was tough, and passionate. He was driven but compassionate. We made unlikely friends. Cary was, and is, a quiet, gentle, yet, an incredibly brave man. His heart is as big as the ocean. In my early years I was “as bold as brass”, Cary liked to say. I wasn’t going to change the world, I was going to beat it into submission. I was, and continue to be, gregarious, an open book, opinionated and fiercely protective. We may have been very different back in our college days, however, we did have one trait in common, loyalty. A fierce ally of friends and family, almost to a fault. Cary would prove this not just to me but to everyone around me in the years to come.

In 1977 I earned a Teaching Assistant position at State University of Albany in the Psychology Department. My supervising professor was a brilliant man, though a little quirky. For several months we worked together very well. Then he began to rely on me for everything. For an entire year I taught classes, graded papers, helped him with his daily planner, kept his meetings with his students and helped him with his medical appointments. Professor Gilland was dying of cancer. He said he wanted to “stick around long enough to make sure I got his teaching position.” He did live long enough to ensure that I got his teaching post. It didn’t make me popular, at first, but it did make me a full-fledged professor directly after I graduated with my PhD. That was rare at SUA. Over the years I became a highly rated teacher, professor, ally to the college, a fundraiser, and I helped out at the free health clinic on campus when I could. The only thing I did not have time for was a personal life. My friends got married, had children, did all the usual “mom or dad” things while I graded papers, did adult continuing education lectures in the city, and kept an exhausting schedule on the world lecture circuit. For the most part I enjoyed my life. The students kept me sharp. My well-meaning friends often tried to fix me up on blind dates, find me suitable escorts for various functions, and planned dinners where there just happened to be a single guy seated at the table.

I met Cary, quite by accident, at a function for the college. A black tie affair where I was to present a legacy award to a fellow professor. The college insisted that I couldn’t possibly attend unattached, so they put me at a table with a visiting archaeology lecturer from Oriel College in Oxford. While he was quite charming, he was in fact a full 2 inches shorter than I even though I was wearing flats, not to mention the fact we had very little in common. As the long night wore on I stepped out of the hall for a breath of fresh air. Standing against a wall apparently taking the air himself, was Cary Alden. All 6’ 3” of him. I startled him, he startled me, then we both laughed. I must have looked like a deer in headlights because he was quite honestly the most handsome man I’d ever seen in person. I introduced myself.  He said he recognized me from my picture in The Annual Review of Psychology. I blushed. He shook my hand and introduced himself as Cary Alden. His mother had given him the perfect name. He was every bit as handsome as the movie star by the same name. I asked him if he was there at the behest of the college or as someone’s plus one for the evening. He told me, as politely as he could that he was someone’s plus one but that the “date” was not going well. He said that if my date continued to go badly I could count on him to help me make a swift escape. He pointed to his sports car across the parking lot.

  We did eventually say good night to our dates. He invited me to meet him at a quaint little Italian restaurant around midnight for a slice of cheesecake. I gratefully accepted. From that night on Cary and I remained very close friends. Though I think at times we both wanted more from the relationship, neither of us had the time.

By 1990 Cary was a successful surgeon and inventor of various lifesaving medical devices. While he did perform surgeries, his real passion was for inventing. His devices were essential therefore, held international patents. However, he always kept a low profile. Cary was not the egotistical, stereotypical “television” caricature of a surgeon. He was incredibly humble. I could always count on that humility and gentleness to help me when I needed advice or a shoulder to cry on. No matter where he was in the world he always took my calls day or night.

I had been a professor for 13.5 years. In the Fall of 1990 I became acting department head. I was in the position for less than a year when I began to notice that something was terribly wrong with the entrance exam test scores for our incoming applicants. It was part of my responsibility to assess the students applying to our department. I noticed that the test scores for coveted athletes and children of the well-to-do were altered in our department computer. My understanding was that our terminal was password protected. I changed the password on the computer, I also made note of the grade for each prospective student before I left for the day.

I arrived home later than usual. Exhausted, I sat down to a slice of pizza and a small salad, but I didn’t feel much like eating. If what I suspected were true the University could be in big trouble with those that provide funding to the school. Since my computer was the master for the department, it would look particularly bad for me. Was this all about money? I needed to talk to Cary. I called his pager number inputting our usual code for when there was an urgent situation. He called me back within the hour.

I told Cary what had happened. He told me to make notes of everything that happened including dates and not to say anything to anyone else before I had hired a lawyer.

It wasn’t long before the whole sordid story came out in the local rag. There was systemic cheating on entrance test scores. The Psychology Department was the worst offender. Whether I knew of, or was involved with the scandal was immaterial. I was acting department head. I was at the helm when the scandal broke. It was my career at an end. I’d never teach again.

  I turned my evidence over to my lawyer with my resignation. I asked him to give the resignation to the Board of Directors of the school. The pain was so excruciating. I was in mental and physical pain. I had no idea what I was going to do. My whole life had been about psychology and teaching psychology. I had no husband or children of my own, my friends evaporated, as did my job prospects. I’d never work in this town again with the scandal hanging over my head.

  The stress became too much to handle. I would go to bars, restaurants, bookstores, libraries, anyplace that there were people and noise, or music. I just didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to shut everything out. As if that would solve the problem. Having been a psychology professor, shouldn’t I have known better? Probably. I’d worked so hard and for so long, for what? To be cast out without the courtesy of an investigation. My mind raced constantly, I couldn’t eat, and consequently I couldn’t sleep. The anxiety was getting to be too much   When Cary read about the scandal in a magazine. I hadn’t even called him. The humiliation was too much. He knew me well enough to know that by now I was very likely spiraling downwards. He wasn’t wrong.

  The Aldens had a private plane. Cary and the wonderful Mrs. McCarthy came to look for me. They scoured the city. They finally found me sitting in some lounge sipping a martini with some guy I’d never met. I was dangerously thin, seriously stressed out, and losing my grip.

   I spotted Cary and Mrs. McCarthy across the less-than-attractive, smoke filled bar. I stood to try to intercept them at the door. My clothes hung on me like sackcloth, my hair barely styled fell across my face as if I’d just stepped out of a horror movie, the makeup under my eyes could not hide the black circles from lack of sleep. As I got to my feet I started to faint. Partly from the surprise of seeing the two of them and partly because I hadn’t eaten. Cary caught me on my way to the floor. Mrs. McCarthy helped walk me to the waiting car. I heard her start to sob quietly.

  Behind the scenes the ever loyal Alden family began to expose those who had destroyed my career and my good name. Having acquired certain papers which revealed the true nature and depth of the corruption at State University Albany. I did not ask how he achieved this, I was grateful to have my name cleared and by a man whose reputation was beyond reproach.

 Cary took me to his family home where he and Mrs. M. nursed me back to health. Repair Hope was in its infancy at the time. I was asked to consult on some cases while recuperating. I was excited about the possibilities. Within three months of my arrival at the Alden Estate, now headquarters of Repair Hope, I had made Cary an offer. I would use my skills to help the clients and the organization. They would need someone to do psychological consults, help with testing for school placement, college entrance exams, tutoring, and of course preparing any promotional materials as needed. In return, I would be allowed to stay at Repair Hope’s ample facilities. In the Spring of I was officially offered a position as Psychologist and Education Director.

  Perhaps we became a bit of a cliché, Cary and I. We didn’t plan to start a personal relationship. However, that’s exactly what happened. Neither of us had ever invested ourselves in a serious romantic relationship. We simply did not feel the need. Now that he and I were both in our 50s it became evident that we had the best foundation for a romantic relationship. There had been no denying that we had walked into this deepening romance with our eyes wide open. He gave me butterflies the first time I laid eyes on him. That should have been my first clue.

I must have been smiling when Cary came over. He touched my arm, causing me to give a little start.

  “Where have you been?” He asked with a smirk.   “Far away and long ago.” I replied.

  “Really? Well how about coming to dinner?” he asked.

  I laughed as I took his arm.

  Rhiannon smiled broadly as we sat down in chairs at the end of the table. Cary sat at the head and I sat on his right. Mrs. McCarthy winked at me. I smiled in return.

  As we ate I chatted with the Tremayne family. They sat wide-eyed at the artistic plate presentation and the carefully chosen gourmet dishes. They complemented their daughter and Mrs. M. on their excellent cooking. The evening had been a complete success.   As the perfect end to our week the board invited Rhiannon to be the Assistant Executive Director of Hospitality and Nutrition. Though this may have felt like the end of the story, in reality, it was just the beginning.


Have you ever heard the expression “The truth will set you free?” I am here to tell you that that statement is very accurate. I am going to tell you a story about a woman who always lied. Her lies got bigger and bigger until one day she had herself in such a conundrum and had no way out. Let her story serve to you a lesson on the importance of truth.

Kennedy grew up in a large family. She was one of five children. Smack dab in the middle. She spent the majority of her childhood fighting for a spot in the bathroom to get ready for school, for mom and dad’s attention and for teachers to remember her for her individual characteristics; not just the family name she was attached to. One day, she grew terribly frustrated when she wanted to get into the bathroom to get ready for “Opposite Day”. It was Spirit Week at school and it was her favorite. She needed to make sure she looked just right! That also might help her be remembered by her teachers as more than just one of the “Crawford 5”. She hollered on the other side of the bathroom door and told her older sister Avery that she had to get in the bathroom immediately as she had stomach pains. Avery reluctantly opened the door and got out. Before she was even fully out of the door frame, Kennedy squeezed past her and slammed and locked the door. Now that she had the bathroom to herself she could get ready just the way she wanted. This was the first of many, many lies. Kennedy learned that if you said you didn’t feel well, you would get special attention from parents and teachers. Any time she craved attention or affection, she would hold her forehead to a heater or run around and make her face red and then say it was due to not feeling well. Soon enough, parents and teachers stopped what they were doing to swoon over her. If we fast forward a few years, as she entered college, Kennedy began to weave further lies about people other than herself to get extensions on assignments, an offer for special extra credit and even a placement on the cheer team. When Kennedy tried out for cheer, she initially didn’t make the cut to be on the team. When the cheer coach told her, Kennedy made herself cry and made up a lie that her mom had been sick and she was worried about her and therefore unable to fully focus on her tryout. The coach felt bad for her and allowed her onto the team. When applying to college, the admissions essay requested exploring a hardship one had overcome. Kennedy found herself fabricating an extreme exaggeration of a very minor incident that happened. One day after school, a friend of hers came over so they could help one another edit their essays. When Kennedy’s friend confronted her on how ingenuine her essay was, Kennedy became red in the face and found it impossible to make excuses for why she had written what she did. Kennedy’s friend then stated that she did not want to maintain a friendship with someone who was so comfortable with lying. She challenged Kennedy that if she was content with lying for something as important as college admissions, she did not care to find out what other things Kennedy would be okay lying about. When her friend left, Kennedy sat there in contemplation on how to untangle the mess she made but felt too far gone. It was then that she accepted that a life of lies was the bed she made for herself and was now being forced to lay in. The web of lies continued to grow well into her adult life. The sad reality is that at this point, Kennedy herself no longer knows what the truth is. She has lost all genuine characteristics she once had and now truly believes that lying and prescribing to the ideas that she thinks are best is the only way to be successful. Kennedy has had a falling out with all of her closest friends and relatives who all have told her that her company is not one they would like to keep. Her hometown is a small, close-knit community and if trust and truth are not foundations one operates on, the community will not have it as it will destroy the very foundation of values they created.

When she was a young child, Kennedy could make friends wherever she went. For birthday parties, her favorite thing to do was pick out favors for all of those who attended. She loved being generous and caring. When her lies started, she lost all of her friends. Kennedy had no one in her life for whom she could rely on for support. It is a dark and lonely life when you have dug a hole for yourself so deep that you see no way out.

At the height of her problem, Kennedy was alone on a vacation at the beach. She found herself unable to start conversations with passerbys about even the simplest of things. Kennedy was finally starting to see that this life she had created was not a good one. She continued to sit on the beach, staring at the waves crash against the shoreline and allowed herself to begin to come to terms with all the lies she had said over time. She remembered how happy and carefree she felt in her younger years before this full-time job of fabricating stories and lies took everything over. Kennedy found herself crying and smiling at various times as she sat there on the beach. She wanted to feel that freedom, that virtue again. She took out her phone from her bag and opened a notes document. There she began to write a list of all of the people she needed to make amends with. She tried to write out all of the lies she had told but there were just too many. Kennedy resolved with herself then and there that she was willing to do whatever it took to earn the forgiveness and acceptance of those she once held so close. Upon returning home, Kennedy got help from a therapist and began to make her amends. Though hesitant at first, her family began to slowly let Kennedy back into their lives, though they were all guarded initially. Kennedy spent a lot of time re-figuring out who she was, the things she enjoyed doing, the company she liked to keep. She was essentially building back from square one but the hope of having a normal, truth seeking and truth telling life was a force that pulled her through. Kennedy now has a podcast where she inspires people from all over on the importance of telling the truth. She is very transparent in her journey which allows leverage with those who may be struggling with the same past she once held. Her most recent podcast episode ended with her saying “Let this story serve as a lesson. Though the road where you tell the truth may be longer and the goals you may be trying to achieve may take longer to get to, the journey will be a much more optimistic one. When you live a life of truth, you can feel good about the steps you are taking and you have by your side to share the experience with. As the old adage goes, the truth will truly set you free. “


Different day, same nurse with a stump where her empathy should be. ‘And you’re absolutely sure you fell down the stairs again?’ Sienna nodded and the nurse rolled her eyes. ‘You sure are a klutz,’ she commented and licked her finger to turn the page on the form she’d filled out last time. ‘Still no family history of inner ear disorders? Strokes? Brain tumours?’ Some nurses at the emergency department tried to coax the truth out with words dripping like honey, but Sienna was allergic to honey. Some raised their eyebrows so high they looked like they were about to detach from their faces, transform from caterpillars into beautiful butterflies, and fly off forever. No matter how raw Sienna felt, no matter how many stitches she needed, she knew to keep that big mouth of hers shut. In Sienna’s native, Eastern European language, the oversized mouth she supposedly had would be called unblanched . She wondered if that would have made a difference to her husband. If he knew the expression, would it inspire him to pour boiling water down her throat and watch the red skin on her tongue come away just like it would peel off a tomato? *** When she came home from the hospital, a cardboard box was sat on the kitchen table. She could see from the way it was dented slightly near the bottom that it had been simply dropped on the surface. Bob emerged from the pantry. ‘I found some shit of yours in the garage,’ he said with his mouth full, pointing at the box. ‘Now let’s see your face.’ He approached her and a familiar grip closed around her jaw, but she knew that this time, it wouldn’t end up dislocated. Bob had a process, and part of it was sweet, post-fight reconciliation, especially if she’d needed ambulatory care. Sienna suspected he probably imagined her making out with one of the nurses after the stitches had been put in place, which would explain why he was always so insatiable whenever she came back. ‘They cleaned you up well,’ was his final judgment and he ran his fingers along the cut. She didn’t flinch. ‘You’re a brave girl after all.’ *** The box had bits and Bobs in it. Sienna’s old life and new squeezed together, things of no consequence that never got unpacked when she’d finally moved in with her husband. The contrasts reminded her of a charity shop display window, with tennis rackets next to evening gowns next to books on stargazing. She couldn’t remember the transition from a lone immigrant to a lonely immigrant wife. On top, a guide from a London museum Bob took her to when he was still trying to impress her. A framed picture from a holiday he booked on condition she would work for that beach body . A plain, boring Valentine’s card in an obscene shade of pink. Pink stands for flesh that reveals itself from beneath the burnt sienna skin, she thought, and her hand wondered absentmindedly to a scar on her forearm. Underneath, she found a diary she’d kept when she’d first moved to the very foreign country. Her native rambling got progressively interspersed with more and more English words, flippant and proud like children on their first day at the kindergarten. At the bottom, she saw a book in translation she didn’t recognise at first: Rose Madder by Stephen King. She opened it and found a stamp claiming the paperback as the property of her town library, its name embedded on the first page, all red and accusatory. She couldn’t recall how it was ever possible that she’d brought the book along with her. *** She told herself she would only read for ten minutes to jog her memory. But she couldn’t put the book down and a dangerous feeling crept up on her: an opening to a person she once knew as herself was widening like a creaking door. If her thoughts got loud enough, Bob would hear them and come running with lubricant to put an end to the incessant noise. Here was a book about a Rose Daniels, a woman escaping domestic abuse by walking into a painting made with a type of dye called rose madder, pictured on the cover. Sienna remembered how incredulous she felt reading it for the first time, how little empathy she could muster for the protagonist. How eventually, she abandoned the book halfway through. Who was that silhouette in her distant memory, so sure she would never be beaten around the bush, never get bent out of shape? Bob managed both at the same time once when he broke her arm behind some rose bushes on their trip to a botanical garden. He dragged her there after she’d been on his case like the world’s smallest violin for hours on end , going on and on about their sterile lawn. Sienna learned a lot of English expressions that day. Bob had a unique way with words — they could suddenly invade the physical realm in the most literal way. He once told Sienna she ought to have her mouth washed out with soap, and he did it for her, holding her head in a steady grip under his armpit until she gagged on the bitter suds. That’s how she learned the expression. Nails were regularly hit on their heads until they turned purple and had to be tugged off Sienna’s fingers. Curiosity did once kill her old, blind and beloved cat when it had to suffer the consequences of peeing in the marital bed. In her ideal world, it would rain cats without the dogs, and she promised Bob she would never forgive him. She closed the book and looked at the cover. She spotted some raw sienna in the painting, which was the same hue her bruises would always eventually pale into: the most curious, sickly shade of brown. *** She realised that simply turning up at the airport wasn’t a solution people opted for anymore: they all booked their tickets in advance. But she couldn’t do that either way, not with the joint account. Bob loved going through the statements day by day to investigate Sienna’s outgoings. ‘What’s the public transport charge for?’ he’d ask innocently and she’d reply with such zest it only made him more suspicious. ‘It was raining hard earlier, so I took the bus home.’ ‘Why is there a supermarket bill from today? Did you go out?’ ‘An international fee? Have you been sending money to your mother again?’ ‘What does Bitchbox stand for?’ It was Birchbox, the only waft of monthly luxury she would ever get. A few pathetically tiny samples of cosmetics she had no use for, with a beautiful calligraphy brochure attached every time. Love yourself, queen. Every day is your day. Look beautiful, feel gorgeous. None of the travel-sized bottles and plastic containers had made it into her hand luggage. She had the book and a few changes of clothes in her bag, and the pristine woman at the counter with no discernible facial expression was staring her down like some artefact of the past. ‘You’ll have to wait until there’s a cancellation or a no-show,’ she explained after giving Sienna’s request for a plane ticket some thought. ‘It might take a while.’ ‘No problem,’ Sienna replied and wondered whether the woman would just forget about her. ‘Thank you,’ she added with emphasis. People in this country loved expressing gratitude, even when nothing was being done for them. ‘Thank you in advance,’ she remembered to pile on. She walked away in a chuffed-to-bits state of mind. This should make the robot lady feel obliged enough. *** The sweats started like some twisted waterworks as soon as she inserted the credit card into the terminal. She waited, suddenly feeling like her bladder was flooded, and ran away the moment the boarding pass was printed and handed to her. She didn’t make it. She felt a warm, spreading fullness in her underwear which made the material cling to her skin, and then a tiny trickle ran down her thigh. She changed out of the ridiculous thong she could floss with into boxer shorts — the forbidden pair, reserved for the messiest, bloodiest periods only, as per Bob’s Bible of Bootylicious. *** There was nothing remarkable about the flight, no unnatural buildup of emotions, no dreadful turbulences which would symbolise Sienna’s rocky path to a smooth landing. She fished the book out of her backpack for comfort, but she ended up stepping eagerly into the pages. Carts were wheeled and plastered smiles were flashed at her, but she barely raised her head to shake it. No, thank you. Thank you in advance for not bothering me any further. *** She remembered the name of the narrow side street the library was perched on because one of her school friends had lived right above it, and she gave the address to the taxi driver at the airport. She’d withdrawn as much money as she could, fearing her husband would block the card as soon as he caught on. It would cost her wordy Bob a pretty penny , as he often said. At the same time, with no pain , there was no gain . The library was just how she remembered it, tucked into an otherwise normal building with floors and floors of flats above it, one of which her friend had occupied. Sienna gave the librarian her name, but her loan sheet couldn’t be found. ‘Do you get rid of members if they’re inactive for long enough?’ The woman shrugged. ‘On occasion.’ The book card was also not in existence anymore, which the librarian proclaimed after sifting through a folder with the words LATE RETURNS written across it in red ink. Sienna put Rose Madder down on the counter. ‘I’d like to return it anyway,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to pay anything,’ the woman reassured her, hoping Sienna’s determination had an obvious, financial source. ‘Stuff like that happens.’ ‘No, no,’ Sienna interrupted. ‘I’d like to return it. I can’t explain it right now.’ The lady stepped back a little. She knew that inexplicability wasn’t a real word for a reason, and its adjective form, inexplicable , often prefixed news reports about terrorist attacks and school shootings in faraway lands, and she felt something foreign about the manic woman on the other side of her meagre barricade. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said finally. ‘Checking that book back in is a lot of paperwork,’ she added. In a country where mentioning bureaucracy was equivalent to pulling out a bleeding, beating heart, surely, the Sienna woman would understand. ‘Treat it as a gift from the library.’ *** Sienna stepped out and the sour smell of old paper and old people subsided with the next inhale, so warm and dry it could only be continental. She looked around. Her childhood home wasn’t far, only a thirty minute walk, but she was in no rush to surprise her parents. Her feet and hands weren’t tingling, and she wasn’t apprehensive, not anymore. She discovered that her favourite ice cream parlor had been replaced by a tiny shoe boutique with touching pairs of flip-flops and sneakers clearly selected by someone with provincial taste trying to impersonate Gucci. They told her the old owners had moved to a bigger building nearby and she found it without a problem, now clinically clean, stickers of excellence and hygiene in the windows. Sienna only tucked into her treat when she’d reached the park, by which time the four scoops inside the waffle boat had melted out of their spherical shapes. She turned her phone on and it buzzed in her hand for so long she could feel the tips of her fingers numb from the vibrations. Missed call from Bob, message from Bob, email from Bob, missed video chat with Bob. She answered when his palindromic, ridiculous name next lit up her screen. ‘Yes?’ ‘Where the fuck are you? Why is there an airport charge on our account? And ATMs? Twice? Sienna?’ She got distracted by two children rattling past her so fast it shouldn’t be possible on a tricycle, and she admired their need for speed. ‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘Yeah? What kind of an answer is that? Where are you? I’m coming to get you.’ It occurred to her briefly that he could, but she realised he wouldn’t know the name of her home town if he had a gun put to his stupid head. ‘Alright, Bob. Come get some,’ she replied and clicked off. The sun was shining and the children were making more noise than should be possible when you’re that small. She would get up soon, her stomach pleasantly filled with sugar Bob would have called charged with cellulite , or pumped with the bingo wing mutation . But she wasn’t going to call it that anymore, no, it could just be called ice cream again. She felt a little dizzy when she got up and her hand wandered up to the dissolving stitches holding the two parts of her left eyebrow together. She realised with all the force in her thrice-concussed mind that she wouldn’t have to wrap bandages around her head anymore. And that somehow, she’d need to wrap her head around that .


Everyone attended the baptism of Baby Johnson.  That is, everyone residing at 24 th  and High Street did.  And why wouldn’t they?  Baby Johnson was the new light to all of their busy lives.  Each tenet at 24 th  and High Street knew the importance of celebrating and supporting the proud parents after the loss of their beloved three-year old.  Through death and new life, they surrounded each other in grief and happiness.

During the service everyone gazed in wonder and smiles at the couple and their child.  Miss Parks, in her motherly way, glanced at her tenets from across the aisle.  She wondered how long each of them had been in her life and under her watchful eye.  Eleven of her children, even though two were her senior.  One was a veteran who had lost his arm at the battle of Antietam.  “Yes,” she thought to herself.  “This is my family.” The splattering of rain had surprised the small congregation as they exited the church and made their way down 24 th  Street.  Three quick blocks before they came to the brick flat they called home.

“24 th  and High Street, please,” he mumbled to the cab driver as he slipped into the backseat from the pouring rain.  It was almost morning and he had to get home and to bed to sober up before work in a few hours.  He nodded off for maybe a brief second before the driver awoke him notifying him of his destination.

As he climbed the steps he felt happy to be home.  “Yes,” he thought to himself.  This is my home.”  He mounted the steps and using the railing, pulled himself to his apartment door.  He knew everyone in the building was asleep, but what did he care?  He barely knew his landlord, or anyone in the building for that matter.  Paying his rent and submitting work orders for his one room apartment was all done online.  He was happy he did not have to communicate with anyone in person.

Reg closed the door, bolted it shut, and made for the bed.  Staring at the ceiling, he half blamed himself for getting thrown out of the girl’s apartment.  Maybe he moved too quickly.  Maybe it was the booze in his system.  Either way, he would never see her again and he was ok with that thought.

Not seeing his family and friends in over seven years, he cut everyone out of his life.  He moved to the city on a whim and a promise of a high-end job that would pay him well.  An ambitious job that he dreamt about all through college.  Now that he has the job, where is he?  The tiger clawed his way to the top of the cage, leaving the carcasses of those he had loved to rot below him.  And he knew it.  Reg closed his eyes and the room spun.  Opening them, he caught the inevitable flashing of neon lights through the cracks of the curtain.  His eyes closed again, then opened.  Head under the pillow, Reg fell into a deep sleep.

Miss Parks had a nice reception in the parlor for her tenets that afternoon.  There was laughing and loud chatter.  She fluttered from group to group ensuring everyone was content, while listening in on each conversation.  She felt it was her obligation to keep tranquility at her boarding house.

A young man had just stepped away from one of the gatherings when Miss Parks rushed over to him at the sideboard.  “I’ve been meaning to ask Mr. McGuire how you’re liking your stay here.” “Oh, just fine, just fine.  Thank you, Miss Parks.”

“These past three months have flown by, but I suppose that’s life.  Just whoosh and it’s done and gone.” “I suppose it is,” said the young man who to Miss Parks appeared like a small boy blushing.

“And are you adjusting to city life?” “I must admit it is quite the adjustment.  This is the furthest and longest I have been away from my family.” “Well, I hope you get to see them soon.  Maybe they can make a trip down here and see their son all grown up,” Miss Parks accidentally stepped on his foot while saying this.  She had a clumsy way about her while she conversed with those she attempted to care about.

“Thank you, Miss Parks, but I doubt anytime soon.  Father is busy with the mill and mother has the children to look after.  In the meantime, I have all of you to keep me company.” “That does a body good to hear that you find all of us good company to keep with.  I see everyone here as my family.”  At this she was called over to another duty to care for another member of her supposed family.

The blushing young Mr. McGuire turned around to the sideboard and made himself appear busy, at least in thought.

At last, the day was through.  Reg returned home from a morning of spinning walls followed by immense hunger that was barely satisfied with his ham sandwich, which he ate alone.

Alone.  That was how Reg always found himself.  He would often tell himself he was happier being alone, but who was he kidding?

Passing through the front door to 24 th  and High Street, he attempted to quickly collect his mail.  The whitewashed walls made the entrance seem even smaller than it already was.  He stared at the wall across from the mailboxes.  Apparently, from what he was told, there used to be a parlor.  He considered what it may have looked like and pondered its use.  Yet, it too was walled up.  Just like everything in his life.  Not knowing what was on the other side of that wall, he began dreaming about the possibilities.  Maybe it’s a spacious bedroom for his landlord?  Perhaps a billiards room for invisible guests of his landlord?  Or maybe it is still the same old parlor that greeted past tenets with old, rotting furniture covered in white cloth.  Suddenly, the front door opened, awakening Reg from his dreams.  Mumbling hello to the older man, he scurried up the stairs without pausing for a reply.

This was not the first time he pondered about what laid behind the white wall downstairs.  It’s not the first time he pondered about possible friends he could have.  But he tried having friends before, and chose to cut them out of his life.  Or at least he told himself that it chose to do so.  It was less effort on his part.  He could find just as much happiness in television and on his phone or computer.

Cracking open a beer, the sound interrupted the silence in the room.  Then, the television reverberated the room with sound and Reg felt the warmth of being nestled in his room by the cold, sixty-two-inch glow.  Even if he tried to tell himself that he was happy in life, somehow truth leaked through those walls.

Mr. McGuire kept busy regularly.  Whether it was with work, evenings at the lodge, or going for a walk around the block, he kept himself busy.  Seeing this made Miss Parks happy.  She would sit up late in the parlor waiting for her flock to come home.  One of the last to arrive home would be Mr. McGuire.  She knew his schedule better than he knew it himself, and he discovered himself hating that fact. One cold night the front door blew open with a rush of frigid air.  Mr. McGuire stepped in.  Looking up, he expected to see Miss Parks sitting by the fireplace with a pot of hot coffee waiting for him.  There was no one, and the fire was out.  The gas lights flickered alone, patiently waiting for someone.  Half saddened, but half pleased, he trudged up the steps to his haven.

The following morning, he was awoken to silence in the building.  He headed downstairs for Miss Parks’ usual breakfast.  The parlor was filled with the other tenets.  Dread and horror were on all their faces.  A physician stepped out of her bedroom into the parlor.

Mrs. Johnson approached Mr. McGuire, “Oh Ted, it’s terrible.  Miss Parks.” Mr. McGuire stood motionless.  The physician broke the silence, “It appears she’s been dead for some time.  Who found her?”  Mr. McGuire observed one of the older tenets raise her trembling hand.  He looked around the room in disbelief. Never again would he look at that parlor the same way again.  Each time he entered the front door, he would try to look past the room to his right and head directly up the stairs.

Another evening wasted in front of the television.  Reg awoke, thinking it was midnight.  Reaching for his phone he saw that it was only seven.  Was he happy that it was still early?  He was unsure of this question.  He was unsure about many things in his life.  There was one aspect of his dreary existence that he was certain of.  Loneliness.  He was certain that he was lonely and was past the point of no return.

He reached out next to the couch in pulled open a drawer.  He pushed past broken pens and other odds and ends.  At first, he hesitated, but then he found it.  A small plastic bottle of pills.  He held it up to the light.  Twenty or so pills.  He knew that was all he had to do.  A couple quick gulps and his miserable existence would be over.

Turning the bottle in his hands, he listened to the rattle of the pills.  They were egging him on.  Or were they asking to be placed back in the drawer?  Stored away until another day.  Yet, who would find him?  His landlord?  A man he had met less than the bartender down the street.  Who would notify his family?  His family.  He wondered what they were up to.  Staring back at his phone he saw that only two minutes had slugged by.  He thought about picking up the phone and calling his mother.  How would she sound?  Would she be happy to hear his voice? He picked up the phone, while tumbling the pills in the bottle.  Just then, a knock on the door.  Startling himself, he dropped the bottle to the floor.  Shamefully he shoved it back in the drawer and answered the door.  Standing in front of him was the girl from the other evening.

“What? How?”  Fumbling as he had done with the bottle, Reg couldn’t make a coherent sentence.

Half smiling, the young girl spoke up, “Don’t you remember?  You showed me your apartment building the other night.  Your landlord showed me up to your door.” Beaming, Reg welcomed her into his room.  “I must remember to thank my landlord,” he thought to himself.


Did it dream of red sands and a barren land where nothing blooms? The Pioneer knew it didn’t belong here. Not in this dusty, shallow grave that cradled its body of steel. Once, its purpose had driven it here, even if that purpose was now long forgotten. Something had woken it from its sleep. A call echoed somewhere deep within its mind—a wordless demand it couldn’t quite decipher. The Pioneer stretched its jointed fingers, ones that rough winds had barraged, eroding away the protective shell until only bare metal remained. Now, there was only calm. It didn’t have to stay here. But the Pioneer’s body was heavy, its metallic heart beating ever slower and slower. It could let the sand and dust swallow it whole into its rough embrace. Yes, it could stay here, let its own weight create its tomb. And bit by bit, rust would devour, and atom by atom, the world would eat the Pioneer away. It would leave behind an orange frame, one of jutted broken steel. Wires and cords would blossom where its body lay. But the call came again, like a surging wave over the Pioneer, tugging at its feet and forcing it to move. Mechanical eyes rolled in their pits, trying to find focus once more. With the whir and whine of its joints, the Pioneer stood up, casting off its dusty veil. It took a step and its feet dug into the sand. Its before so sure movements wavered, but it was still movement forward. One lurching step followed another, heavy feet leaving red clouds in its wake. If the desolate landscape around the Pioneer changed, its eyes remained blind to it until its feet met moist ground. The Pioneer swayed, looking down at the water bubbling from underneath its feet. It had been sand before, it knew. Now it was all green. Dark, muted colors that matted the ground, and bright vibrant hues that rose high above, even higher than the Pioneer could reach. A tiny white flower, a multitude of them, stared at the Pioneer from within the lush green. The Pioneer knew the plant, even if its name was long gone from its machine mind. It was sure it had once created one, watched it grow from its striped seed, watched the leaves unfurl and hunger for light and water. But it had never seen one bloom. How could it, in this barren world of stone and dust? Yet here it was, as if mocking the notion. The Pioneer walked further into the green. Moisture condensed on the surface of its fractured shell, rolling droplets leaving stripes that revealed white underneath. Somewhere far, it could feel it. The call that had pulled it out of its sleep and forced its broken body to move. It was getting stronger now, each step bringing the Pioneer closer. A gleaming light shone in the distance. As the Pioneer’s whirring eyes came to focus, they revealed a dome that rose above the green. Now closer, the Pioneer could see where the green had broken through, or perhaps broken out, leaving a jagged hole just big enough. Inside, it was steady ground that met its steps, white gleaming surfaces and straight lines all around. Something rolled up to the Pioneer, its surface smooth silver and white, not a speck of dust to be seen. The Pioneer could sense its call, a reach that surged through its wires and chips. “Unauthorized unit—rrzz—. This area is a restricted living area. You are advised to turn back immediately.” Living—? The Pioneer lifted its heavy head and saw people. Their wide eyes and open mouths stared at the Pioneer, but its focus was already elsewhere. The small machine that whirred and swirled around the Pioneer’s feet wasn’t what it was looking for. The call, the one that pulled at the Pioneer, still pricked at the edges of its mind. It walked on through the place where white of the angular buildings shone against the deep lush. In the dome above, the Pioneer saw a prism of colors, scattering across the shiny surface. “Whatareyou?” The Pioneer looked down. The words were a scrambled mess in its ears. It needed a signal, but living flesh couldn’t give one it would understand. The small person stared at the Pioneer, black eyes wide and intent, as if trying to unravel what the machine was. “Getawayfromit!” Another came to drag the small person away. More fervent calls arose from around the Pioneer as it continued its walk, but those weren’t enough to stop the machine. It had finally found it. The Pioneer stared at what once would have been its mirror image. The buildings made way to a wide opening where the figure stood, towering above the people. Its glossy white shell hid the metal underneath, joints shining steel. It hadn’t been ravaged by the coarse, unrelenting winds, or dirtied by the dust that found its way into every seam. It was whole. And it was gone. The other Pioneer embraced the green that climbed its motionless form and rested on its open outstretched palms. Flowers bloomed on its shoulders and where its heavy feet were bolted to the ground. All this time, its call had been fading, until it was gone. Final goodbye of the lifeless machine as it now embraced the life it had once brought forth. “Unauthorized unit—defensive measures will be—turn back immediately.” The scattered message reached the Pioneer, but whatever it meant, the Pioneer’s broken mind couldn’t grasp its meaning. It only remembered long journeys and the trailing red dust. It remembered when it had finally found water and damp ground. It remembered its purpose. The Pioneer fell to its knees. Somewhere deep within its body, bits and pieces moved, wheels whirred now knowing what they had been made for. The Pioneer stretched its stiff fingers, and on its open palm, it saw green. The green that was more tenacious than the metal. It had a desire to live, hard coded into its very being. And it bloomed. It would continue to bloom, the Pioneer knew, long after it was gone. Now, it was ready for another dream.


Taylor took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the Seattle rain before entering the busy city building. Her heels clicked on the tile floor heading toward the elevator to clock in for the day at the Spa-Tacular Corporation. When the elevator doors slid open, the sound of keyboards ticking away amplified by the northwest rain tapping the windows flooded her senses.

Taylor sat at her desk and used her front facing camera on her phone to adjust her red lipstick and smooth out her tight brown pony tail. Once satisfied,  she straighten her desk out perfectly then logged on to her computer to check her emails.

The sound of a nasally and high pitched female voice broke her concentration, “Hey girl. I got your coffee.” Kayleigh, her greatest friend, always came in clutch with the important things. Taylor said, “Oh, my god it’s like you know me or something.” They giggled and sipped the seasonal brew with glee. “So, did you finish the membership drive packet design for Aimee this weekend?” Kayleigh rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “Yeah, totally ruined my plans. I was supposed to go to a house party with one of Drake’s cousins.” Kayleigh said excitedly. “But whatever boss lady wants, she gets.” She rolled her eyes. Taylor gasped, clutching her metaphorical pearls. “Drake? You mean…he made your hotline bling?” Kayleigh smiled proudly, “Yes! Well, his cousin but that is pretty close to the same thing. I am almost a Hollywood femme fatale.” “Uhg.” Taylor slumped. “I can’t believe she ruined that for you.” She huffed. “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s my turn next. Good thing my life is boring so there’s nothing for her to ruin.” “Yeah, I heard.” Kayleigh sipped her coffee, “Gotta make new aromatherapy protocols just for them to stick with the same ol’ one?” She raised her brow.  Taylor rolled her eyes.“It’s almost like she tests us, to see how much time we’ll waste before we snap.” She too took a sip from her coffee before continuing. “Like when we had to get everyone those stupid background links that ended up stealing everyone’s identity? Very organized. Very mindful. Very demure.” Taylor dramatically recanted the memory, both of them laughing as they began to focus on the day's work. They worked in tandem. Even taking breaks and sipping the same flavored latte and laughing at the same office insider jokes in emails. Corporate life suited them well with their similarly styled three piece, feminine blazer suits and tall stiletto heels. Their aesthetically styled accessories made them social media ready at any point and at any time.

Their synchronized work was interrupted by the raspy voice of an older woman in the large office behind them. “No, no, NO. This is all wrong! I told you I wanted the franchisees to commit to a one year contract with THIS vendor, not this one! Now we’ll have to pay double what we budgeted!” The poor assistant stumbled over her words, her perfectly curled blonde hair bouncing along her quivering shoulders as she cried. “Amie please, I have your note right here that says you wanted to have the franchisees commit to this vendor. See?” Aimee’s voice deepened with disapproval. “Don’t patronize me, Jessica. I gave you very clear instructions and your inability to be organized your own problem.” “Please, Aimee, if you just look at the last email you sent me…” Jessica pleaded. “Get out.” Aimee said, tossing back the contract receipt in her direction. “Clear your desk. You’re fired.” The rest of the floor became silent as Jessica sniffed and sobbed out of the building, holding her box of belongings, dropping a few pieces of office supplies on her way out. Kayleigh side eyed Taylor and said, referring to the spontaneous new job opening, “You’re not thinking about going for it, are you?” Taylor tilted her head to the side, her unblinking eyes unamused at Kayleigh’s dig. “I mean it’s open to everyone. So, anyone can go for it, right?” Kayleigh huffed. “Right, but I have seniority so that kind of takes you out of the picture.” She shrugged. “I don't want to be mean, bestie. Just looking out for your feelings, that's all.” She gave a condescending smile to her. Taylor tapped her fingers on her desk in a singsong way before replying, “I would hate to see your ambitions…squashed because you shot too high from your ego.” Kayleigh rolled her eyes. “Ok, we’ll see. May the best baddie win.” “You’re on.”

With a whip of their hair they went straight back to work with determination unbeknownst to them before. Feverishly, they worked to organize each and every aspect of the office in hopes to be called for a task by the great and powerful Aimee Harrington. She was the CEO of the entire corporation and being in her circle meant everything. After a while, the door to her office propped open. Taylor eyed Kayleigh for a moment. She could see that she was distracted responding to client issues. Slowly and with stealth, Taylor stood from her desk and began walking down the hall with quick and nervous steps. Kayleigh propped up the minute she heard Taylor’s stuttering steps. She stood with determined force, making her way to Taylor until they stepped in time together. “What are you doing?” She bit in a hushed voice. “I am just seeing if Aimee needs anything.” Taylor lifted her head high, unbothered by Kayleigh’s persistence. “No. You don’t need to put yourself out there when you aren’t even on the board, Taylor.” Kayleigh lashed with her acrylic tipped venomous words. “Well, your seniority doesn’t mean much when there’s been two assistants hired while you were already here. Sounds like you aren’t on the board.” Taylor lashed back.

They quickened their steps to the point of near jogging. Aimee appeared at the door. She was on her cell phone yelling at the vendor that Jessica had signed the contract with. As she argued, she slowly pushed the door closed leaving the two tandem contestants standing still and without resolve. Taylor spun to face Kayleigh, anger doing its best to show on her freshly botoxed face. “You distracted me-a!” She whined. “Well you tried to trip me!” Kayleigh spat back. “What? I did not!” Taylor contested. “Then why does my shoe have a scuff!” Kayleigh pointed down to her scuffed red heel. Taylor crossed her arms and said with venom, “Because, you bought them at Ross. ” Kayleigh gasped, her mouth agape at the audacity. “You. Take. That. Back. ” She demanded. “No.” Taylor said pointedly. Kayleigh pointed a freshly manicured finger at her, “How dare you insult my style. I thought we were friends, Taytay?” Taylor uncrossed her arms and sighed, “You’re right. That was too far.” “Thank you for respecting my boundaries.” Kayleigh said. Taylor put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Of course, what are friends for?” The door opened once more and they both fought to be the first in Aimee’s wake. The CEO strutted through the door, ring adorned hand clutched the phone saying, “Listen Scott, this contract is an hour old, you can either void it, or I’ll tell every franchisee to discontinue their independent services with you. Do you understand?” She hung up the phone without waiting for an answer. She was tall and athletically slender, her skin bronzed from years of tanning bed use. She narrowed her eyes and asked, “Can I help you, ladies?” Stuttering, Taylor said, “We just wanted to let you know we were available if you needed anything.” Kayleigh glared at her. “Hm.” Aimee tapped her chin. “Well, I guess I do have a position open now don’t I? Very astute ladies.” “I can send that email to the right vendor if you need me to, Aimee.” Kayleigh blurted, Taylor fuming with a competitive edge. “No, no I will take care of that. Why don’t one of you find the compliance report for the PNW franchisee locations and find out who needs a 'long vacation'.” They both stood awaiting more instruction when Amie motioned, “Well, go on, I haven’t got all day.” They fought for the last word as they blurted, “Of course; yes; right away.”

As they hurried back to their desks, Taylor scrunched her nose and said, “Well, you heard her. She wants me to run compliance. Better luck next time, bestie.”

“Pfft.” Kayleigh retorted. “She clearly asked me . Your delusions are cute though, boo.” When Kayleigh began typing in the report portal, Taylor said passively, “You’re right. I guess…” She sighed. “Let me know if you need any help.” “Aw.” Kayleigh smiled. “You are doing the right thing. It’s a lot of pressure in this position. I would hate to see you stressed out.” “Way to girl boss.” Taylor stood from her desk and asked. “Coffee?” “If you act it, live it, love it, then you get it. So yeah, in my mind, I am already the executive assistant.” Kayleigh explained. “And yes, always yes to coffee.” Taylor walked to the coffee station, licking the paper cup before pouring the coffee. An idea struck her as she strutted back to their desks. Kayleigh was vehemently typing away when Taylor stepped then ‘tripped’ over the power cord to the computer, slamming the coffee cup next to her.

Kayleigh slapped her monitor and pushed the power button to the computer. “What did you do?”

She fumed.  “Oh shoot,” Taylor stuck out her lower lip in fake concern. “I don’t know what happened.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll finish that report for you.” She wiped the spilled coffee off her hands and added, “What are friends for?” Kayleigh nodded her head, angry and impressed. ‘Ok. That’s how you want to play? You’re on.” Kayleigh had waited for Taylor to use the restroom when she quickly used Taylor’s work station to send a chat to the entire floor that said, “Hey, do you have Monistat? I’m about to call 911 to put out the fire-crotch over here!” She clicked send and the entire floor began to mutter and laugh. As Taylor walked by, everyone looked in her direction and everything went still. Jessica had come back to pick up the rest of her things and whispered to Taylor, “Hey, I got this for you. You’re so brave for sending it through the whole employee chat, though.” She sniffled. “What are you talking about?” Taylor asked, taking the cardboard tube of medicine. “The message you sent. About needing Monistat.” Jessica explained. Taylor dropped the medicine on the ground and screamed. “Are you serious?” The floor broke its stare and went back to work. Jessica asked, “So, you don’t need it then?” “Uhg!” Taylor moaned, “No! Jessica. I don’t need the fucking Monistat.” “Ok. I mean. It’s ok if you did. It happens.” Said Jessica, unphased by Taylor’s sudden mood change. “Oh, my god. This is why you were fired.” Taylor stomped away, leaving Jessica to clean out the rest of her belongings. Taylor and Kayleigh went full speed ahead and unleashed ravenous revenge on one another. Screens were flipped, keyboards were unplugged, the backs of their chairs loosened to the point they fell upon sitting, legs up turned and dangling. Aimee had come around the corner and asked, “So, how is the report coming?” Taylor said, “Don’t worry, I have it all taken care of. I contacted the franchisees in an email with a list of providers that are out of compliance.” “I went ahead and deactivated their employee profiles.” Kayleigh chimed. “What?” Taylor asked. “Aimee said they needed a ‘long vacation.’ So I took away their ability to be booked until they become current.” Kayleigh explained,  smirking at Taylor. “Well, look at you going above and beyond, Kayla.” Aimee said. “It’s Kayleigh.” Kayleigh corrected. Aimee dismissed the correction and said, “Now. I need one of you to head to my office in about an hour. I need help deciding which location to shut down.” “Are their sales numbers not up to par?” Taylor asked. Aimee chuckled. “Ha! No. The employees keep complaining about raises so I am going to remove the headache.” “Slay, girl!” Kayleigh snapped her fingers and Aimee simply stared before heading back to her office. Taylor stamped her foot and said, “Oh, my god. Kayleigh, you are such a kiss ass! ‘Slay’ seriously?” “What?” Kayleigh retorted. “You are literally kissing her ass as much as me. Either way, I am obviously getting the position.” Taylor narrowed her eyes and flipped her ponytail. “Whatever, bitch. When it comes down to it, we’ll see who eats up this meeting.” As the minutes ticked by, Kayleigh sighed and excused herself to use the restroom. Turning her head, Taylor could see Aimee through the office door typing away at her computer. Taylor opened her desk drawer where small necessities had piled up. Lip balm, blush, contour, some pens, eye drops, and a small hair brush and mirror. She took out some of the supply and touched up her aesthetic features. Their time was beginning to run out as the hour ticked by. Both of them organized their portfolios and straightened their appearance. Kayleigh had sipped her coffee before saying, “Well, guess it’s time to see who’s the better girl boss.” She spun on her heel and walked ahead, Taylor followed closely behind. Shutting the door behind them, they sat in black chairs in front of Aimee’s glass desk. Aimee continued her emails before turning her attention back to the ladies. “So. I understand that you are both interested in the executive assistant position. My one requirement is that you must be available whenever I need you, do whatever I say, and bring my coffee to me at exactly 8:15am with exactly two sugars, one cream, and so help me if you use the blonde roast…Pike’s Place beans only .” Kayleigh shifted in her seat and said, “Yes. Yes of course.” Her stomach audibly groaned. “Is everything alright, Katie?” Aimee asked. “Um.” Kayleigh muttered as she clutched her stomach. “I’m ok. And, it’s…” Another loud gurgling sound echoed in the office. Taylor whispered to her, “Hey, are you ok? You don’t look good.” Kayleigh began to sweat as she stood, “I’m sorry.” She walked to the door, stiff backed and locked at the knees. “My stomach…” Flatulence escaped her as she opened the door and she began to jog to the restroom. She yelped as she made it, shoving another woman out of the bathroom and locked the door, sink turned on and fan switched to hide the embarrassing sounds. Taylor turned her head back to Aimee who sat crossing her arms and said, “Poor thing. Must have eaten something bad.” The perfect amount of sympathy etched in her voice. “Don’t play dumb, Taylor.” Aimee said. “What do you mean?” Taylor adjusted her coat and sat straighter. “What did

you use? Laxative? Prune Juice? Come on, spill it.” Aimee demanded. Taylor looked at the floor and admitted, “Eye drops. I…I used eye drops.” “What a nasty, horrible thing to do to your teammate.” Aimee lectured. “That is a total violation of what we stand for. We are supposed to be a family.” Aimee said, glaring down at Taylor. Taylor’s cheeks reddened. “I know. This position means a lot to me and I would do anything to get it.”

Aimee tapped her finger in the crook of her arm and said, “Everything you did, the lengths you went to, it’s everything I need in an assistant.” Taylor smiled big until she continued, “Besides, I need someone who is going to throw everything out the window to get these memberships sold. Your friend doesn’t have what it takes...and she’s too smart.” Confused, Taylor tilted her head and asked, “Too smart?” Aimee tapped a stack of papers on the desk before handing them to her. “Sign the dotted line and the position is yours.” Taylor hesitated and looked toward her old desk. Kayleigh was at her station packing some things up before heading out, toilet paper stuck on her heel. When she finished signing, she handed the papers back to Aimee. She double checked the work and said, “Good. Now, the next order of business…” “Hold on.” Taylor interjected. “What did you mean by Kayleigh being too smart for the position?” Aimee sighed and explained, “Look, your friend has brains. She can solve problems and will probably own her own company one day. I don’t need that kind of competition. I want a brain-dead tiktok-girl who will do whatever I say when I say it. That’s you. Also,” She continued, “that one uses an Android phone.” She made a disgusted face and muttered, “I hadn’t realized I hired a criminal.” She tsked. The look of dread painted on Taylor’s face. “I want to turn down the position.” Taylor muttered. “Ha!” Aimee spat. “Not a chance. You already signed the dotted line. Now, go get me another coffee. I’m empty.” Taylor sighed and clarified, “Right, two sugars, one cream?” With offense Aimee retorted, “What? Who told you that? I want a vanilla latte with two Splenda sprinkled on top. And a cookie. Now go on, I need more caffeine before I  meet with this new franchisee.” Taylor said meekly, “Of course.”

While she stood in the elevator to grab the coffee, Taylor texted Kayleigh. To apologize or complain whichever came first. The reply said, “ERROR. UNABLE TO SEND.” She checked her facebook and not only was she no longer friends with Kayleigh, the photos of their weekends were being deleted and untagged. Instagram was the same. Even their shared pins on Pinterest were removed. Taylor wiped the moisture from her cheek. The price of getting everything meant she lost it all too. And that really sucked.


Dr. Piccoli monitored her. Months ago the excitement had leveled out, and he was able to check the dials and read the printouts without trembling hands. Now his agitation and anticipation were rechanneled into something like professional pride. “Benino, the triglycerides.” A young man kicked the floor, rode his rolling chair over to another console. “Accelerating but proportional,

borchia . As always.” “Pressure?” “She’s pumping like a fireplug without a sign of relent. Totally sustainable.” “Very good. Nigi?” “Beta-somatotropins are perfectly stable,

borchia . Drinking them down like mother’s milk.” “Excellent.” The doctor stepped down from his platform and joined a much older, hunched man at a small, wooden table to which he was handcuffed. He rested his hand upon the old man’s shoulder. “Dr. Abate… Ristoro. Please do not fight me any longer. We are so close, can you not see this? Just look.” He knelt beside him, extending one long arm to the woman on the vast steel table. Her skin glistened with health, muscles rippling beneath. Benino and Nigi drifted behind her sometimes like puppets, disappearing behind her proud breasts. “This is real, Ristoro. This is happening. All your theories, your dreams.” He locked his eyes upon those of the old man with an intensity that raised the temperature around them. “Our dreams, Ristoro. Our deepest, wildest dreams. We are so close! Why would you throw this away now?” The old man blinked blearily and signed. “I was wrong, Piccoli. This is wrong. If you won’t release me, let her go.” Dr. Piccoli stood up, brushed off his lab smock, then barked a math problem at the old man, who responded reflexively, clearly, before slumping to the table with a moan. Smirking, the doctor regarded the enormous woman who, even now, was growing to fill the room. “As I thought. Nigi! The proteins?” The shorter man laughed. “More than enough to feed three of her. Our largest problem is keeping this volume from decaying, and that’s well under hand.” Now the doctor permitted himself an excited sigh. The machine, his orchestration was running under its own volition now. There were no errors, everything was calculated and anticipated for, and despite himself, Dr. Abate could never condescend to give a wrong answer when asked appropriately. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the yellow alarm lights began to spin, silent though they were: the woman was nearing fifty feet tall. A viable, perfectly proportionate human being, operating in defiance of the square-cube theory and all known physics. Sufficient blood pressure, muscles powerful enough to move the bones dense enough to hold them. Everything, everything had been accounted for and it was all falling into place. She had been a model, already tall. The doctor had put out an ad in the local paper and she had answered. Would she like to be much taller? She would. How did she feel about tiny little men, he asked laughingly. When she didn’t respond, Benino and Nigi stepped in from outside, knocked her out, and prepped her for surgery, six months ago. “Just you wait, Dr. Abate,” he said over his shoulder. “Our dream is becoming a reality.” Long ago, in a bar not far from here, Dr. Abate had taken his most promising pupil out for celebratory drinks, after a revelation in cloning and growth. Campari for the young man, grappa for the older man, and the evening steadily descended into mischief. When a particularly tall woman walked by their table, both men realized a deeper, lurid bond, a fantasy for giantesses. The old man woke up with a hangover; the young man woke up with a vision. Her foot twitched. Dr. Piccoli ran up to it: her heel resting on the floor, her sole still reached a foot above his tall body. With tremendous affection, he reached out and placed his palm upon her inner arch. Electricity arced through his body at first contact. Her skin was warm and soft, gentle folds in the skin like waves on a calm day at the lake. “So glorious,” he breathed, running his hand over the ball of her foot. Above him, her toes lined up like a row of cute, perfect pearls, albeit larger than his head. The innocuousness of her slumber, the innocence of the unconscious woman… his heart melted and he forgot to breathe. And this, just at her mere foot! He looked back at Dr. Abate with surprise, awe, and burning love. The old man only buried his face into the sweater on his arms and shuddered. “My goddess.” He looked at her other foot, the gentle turn of her (huge) ankle, how her (powerful) calves ran up to her (tremendous) thighs. He stood—a full-grown man stood—between her feet, at the entrance of her legs. Everything, so familiar, so beautiful all on its own, and then… amplified! Made magnificent! Everything powerful, made more so! Everything sexy, even sexier! He would have his own giantess, his own goddess to love! He placed his palm over his mouth and struggled to control his emotions. The yellow lights switched to red alarms, accompanied by a low buzzing. Struggling mightily with tremendous longing, Dr. Piccoli tore himself away from her gate and ran to a console by her limp right arm. “Benino, Nigi: report!” They rattled off numbers, measurements, quantities, and feedback. Everything was optimal. There was no panic in their voices, no tremble that betrayed hidden information, an unforeseen flaw that would undo everything in calumny. No, everything was working perfectly! He glanced over at his former mentor, now motionless.

More for me , he thought. A synthetic woman’s voice tinnily counted down from ten. The doctor and his two assistants froze in place and stared at the gigantic woman, still asleep. The countdown expired, the red lights turned off, and after all her contacts and catheters automatically disengaged, there was a moment of silence. “ Borchia? ” Nigi started, silencing at the doctor’s sharp wave. Long, shapely fingers twitched. A sweet, resonant voice moaned. The woman sat up. Her breasts swung ponderously from her biceps to her chest. One meaty arm swiped through space (Piccoli could hear the air succumb!), and she placed a hand to her brow, frowning, blinking. She raised her shaggy head and peered around the laboratory. “ Mia cara ,” the doctor called out, more bravely than he felt. It was one thing to see a ravishing woman, nude on your table for months. It was another thing entirely to see her enlarged, larger than a car, than a bus, and rising to a sitting position in your lab. So much power, so much mass… he gaped at her, his fists white-knuckling a handrail. Her head turned like a planet upon broad, round shoulders. Her thick lips closed as her eyes rolled down to perceive him, regarding him almost disdainfully from above one large and swelling breast, a bosom far over his head. And when she focused on him, he very nearly lost control of his body. At that moment, everything elevated from something amazing he couldn’t believe was happening… to something thunderously, potently real. “My giantess.” He stepped from behind his controls, walked to her right knee, slightly bent and raised from the floor. “My beautiful, lovely giantess.” Her eyes followed him warily, thoughtfully. “Are you with us,

mia cara ? Can you speak?” Hesitating, he slowly rested his palm upon her knee. She bent it slightly: he could feel the jerk of stiff tendons activating, pushing hundreds of pounds of force to flex her calf, bend her ankle. He thought his heart might explode right in his rib cage. He was growing dizzy with lust, with love, with a fantasy realized. His grin hung drunkenly on his face. Raising one arm to her, he said, “It’s confusing now, I know! But I know you will learn to be happy. Please… let me make you happy!” The gigantic woman opened her jaws and howled. Faster than the men would have thought probable, she drew her heels in close, and her calves and thighs pumped with fearsome power as they straightened out. Her arms flung out and her buttocks launched off the floor as her head and shoulders shot through the ceiling of the laboratory. Benino and Nigi rushed to the little wooden table, freed the old doctor, and hustled him through the nearest exit. Before Dr. Peccoli, massive legs like old-growth tree trunks flexed and wobbled only slightly. Huge feet tensed and rolled just a little, large toes grasped at the floor, as the new body found its new center of gravity very rapidly. He stood only to mid-shin beside the woman. His tiny shined shoes planted beside her heavy bare foot, and her calf rose and flexed and pumped right before his nose. His heart was pounding, his cock was raging, and his mind could barely make sense of anything. “ Mia cara, ti voglio tanta… ” He reached up for her, pleadingly, full of nothing but desire. With a roar, the giantess tore the roof up and away. Her knee swung through the air and caved a wall in. Her other leg reached up impossibly high, her powerful fingers kneaded and sundered the wall like soda crackers, and within seconds she was sprinting across the landscape, running nearly as fast as highway traffic nearby. Her huge, full, round ass heaved and bounced merrily as she fled, and then she was gone. After a minute of shock, Dr. Peccoli ran to his private quarters and cried his heart out.