I chucked the case of bottled water into the truck and slammed the tailgate shut. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t. Jess would probably get out and check on me, and I hated burdening her with my problems. The passenger door shut, and I tried to avoid her eyes as she came around. “You ok?” “Yeah,” I huffed and sat on the bumper. She sat next to me, ran her fingers down my arm and interlocked them with mine. After a minute she spoke: “We don’t have to go back, you know. Not right away - or at all.” That was a pleasant thought. I could spend my entire vacation in this parking lot, watching seagulls eat trash, and never have to step foot in that beach house again. “I’m fine,” I said. “I just need a minute alone - with you.” I looked at her, those deep brown eyes looking back at me. “Thanks for coming with me.” “Always,” she whispered and squeezed my hand. “But we didn’t have to come. Reunions are cliche. And what’s there to reminisce about? How immature and selfish everyone was?” “Yeah,” I smirked and looked at the ground. “And how little things have changed.” How Jeff still dominates every conversation. How Brennan still wears his letterman jacket. How Kass still glares at anyone who disagrees with her. How were these my friends? The people I remember laughing the hardest with, the people I wanted at my wedding one day… “Not everything’s the same,” Jess said. “You’re not the same.” Maybe that was it - the reason why that beach house was the last place I wanted to be. It reminded me of countless days being the worst version of myself, and the years it took to get me to where I am now. “Hey,” Jess whispered as she took my face in her hands. “Don’t let them ruin a perfect weekend. Dinners will be painful, and I may throw up you make me spend more than five minutes with Kass. But we’ll make it through.” Then she brushed my hair aside and kissed me. She was right. It would be painful, irritating, and perhaps the worst week of my life. But we’d get through it together. Only, I didn’t want to get through it. I wanted to enjoy a beautiful weekend with my beautiful girl. “You know what?” I said. “Let’s ditch.” As if she was waiting for this moment, Jess exhaled a breath I didn’t know she was holding. “Definitely,” she smiled.

Jaden’s legs dangled over the misty city far below. He felt at once like a giant and a child. Everything down there was so distant and insignificantly small. Meanwhile, everything behind him in the apartment was so terribly monstrous. He heard the door click shut, then another pair of legs dangled over the edge. “Hey.” It was Llena. Normally, Jaden would’ve opened his mouth and poured out his thoughts to his sister. But tonight he kept his thoughts to himself. “Listen,” she said after a few minutes. “I know how you feel, but that doesn’t change -“ “What do you know!” Jaden shouted. He was just as surprised by his outburst as Llena. He quickly hid his face. “I’m not a killer.” “Well you need to be,” Llena said, her voice stone cold. “Because this is just the beginning. The world down there is nothing like the white walls and clean baths and colorful buffets you get up here. It’s dangerous and it’s bloody, and when you find yourself on the wrong side of a blade, you’ll have to kill to survive.” Jaden could feel her gaze burning into the side of his head. “The only thing that’s going to keep you alive out there is this family. We take care of our own. We trust each other. Father needs to know that we can trust you.” She stood to her feet. “Now wipe the snot off your face and come on.” The room hadn’t changed since Jaden stormed out to the balcony. Father was sitting in a white leather chair beneath a massive ornately woven tapestry on the wall. On the other side of the room, Hal was on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth onto the white carpet. Two men stood on either side of him. As Jaden entered, Father stood and lifted his hands into the air. “The prodigal son returns,” Father said and smiled. The others in the room chuckled. Jaden felt like running back to the balcony and jumping over the railing, getting as far away from that room as possible. But father had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Shall we try this again?” Father said softly. Jaden looked over at Hal, but Father grabbed his face and looked into his eyes. “Do not make me regret giving you a second chance.” Jaden felt the handle of the knife slip into his hand. Then, all he could see was Hal. Bloodied. Gasping for breath. The young boy lifted his head and looked at him. Jaden squeezed the knife. “He’s my friend,” he muttered through the tears. “You have no more need for play things,” said Llena. Then as one voice, the whole room chanted: “When I was a child, I walked like child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. But when I became a man, I put my childish ways behind me…” They repeated the refrain over and over, growing louder every time. Jaden didn’t notice them lift Hal to his feet. In the blink of an eye, Jaden felt a wave of memories flood his mind. Jumbled words. Incoherent images. Good memories. Happy memories. Years of friendship squeezed into a marble of time, a marble that he grasped for but never quite held. The room fell silent. The chanting stopped. The only sound left was Hal choking on his own blood. Jaden stood frozen as the body slipped from the knife and onto the floor. Llena took his hand and wiped it clean with a handkerchief. Red. The handerkerchief, the carpet, the body - everything was red. Jaden felt the floor disappear as the room was bathed in color. “You’re alright, kid,” Father said. “I’ve got you now. You’re alright.” Jaden felt the strong arms around him. He prayed that Father was taking him far away from that room. Away from the Hal. Away from it all. “You can rest now.” It was Llena’s voice. “You’re with your real family now.”

The king sat on his ancient throne, the dark orb resting in his hand. He stared at it, watching the gray smoke swirl within it. “What would you have done?” He asked the chamber. The room was tall and long, and menacingly quiet. His voice echoed back and forth below ornately carved archways barely visible in the dim light of flickering wall torches. “What would any of you have done!” He shouted. The empty room replied with a heavy silence. “You think it was easy, do you? Do you?! You think I wanted this?” He stood from his throne, puffing his chest out with confidence. “It was that witch,” the king said, pointing toward the giant chamber doors. “She is to blame. She made me do it. It was her who told me to descend into the mountain- she’s the one who told me of the stone and it’s power!” He looked down at the orb in his hand and lifted it high into the air. “This beautiful, powerful stone. She told me what it could do. How could I not have sought it out? To see my queen once more by my side, that wretched coldness pulled from her veins. To feel the warmth of her kiss.” “But no - no, that witch spewed lies! Yes, the stone has power. See? See?” The king jumped off the pedestal and waved the orb around the cavernous hall. The stone filled with brilliant light, chasing the darkness. As he walked, flowers began sprouting from the ground beneath his feet in beautiful reds, blues, and purples. “It can do many things. She called it the Provider,” he said, looking at it with awe. “Think of all the good it could do, she told me.” The flowers began to wilt, and soon there was nothing but black ash upon the ground. “But it was a trick,” he sneered. “She wanted it all for herself. She told me the stone would raise my love from the dead, but that witch already knew the spell. She wanted the stone for something else, something foul.” He turned around violently. “Don’t you see? I couldn’t let her have it. Whatever she was planning would have changed our world, ruined our lives, scathed our lands!” His voice boomed in the space, flickering off the walls over and over until silence returned. “I couldn’t let her have it.” He bowed his head, his gray hair covering his face from the endless glare of the vacant room. “She cursed me,” he whispered. “I did not give her what she wanted, and so she did not give me what I wanted.” A tear escaped his eye and dropped onto the stone. As it did, the smoke within it churned and crimson crackles of lightning sparked deep inside. “That witch!” The king shouted. “She deserved to die! She deserved what she got!” His eyes darted around the room searching, probing for a response. For an affirmation that he had done the right thing, but there was nothing. The king fell to his knees, the orb clutched tightly in his hand as it’s color seeped away into the dim light. In the silence, he wept. There was no-one left. No-one to hear his lament, to care whether he had made the right choice or not. He only had himself, and he felt nothing but regret.

At first, the feeling was more of a pinch than a pang. Haden shifted in his seat and tried to loosen the tension in his shoulders. It didn’t help. The pain in the middle of his back remained. The morning had been a blur, a dream really. Flashes of colors. The feeling of solid ground beneath his feet. He did, however, remember stopping on the sidewalk during his morning commute to stare at something strange - he tried to remember what he saw, but the memory wouldn’t sharpen. He flexed his hands as he glared at the three white walls surrounding him. The cubicle felt smaller than it did yesterday, as if overnight the Company had pressed the walls in closer with the hope he wouldn’t notice. But he noticed. He tried to relax his shoulders again but couldn’t. It had been a long evening of work the day before, and after that, it had been a long night of lying on an old mattress rubbing that painful spot on his back. The black screen on the white desk in front of him lit up with green letters. They appeared one at a time, and they were spelling a word - no, two words: URGENT MESSAGE… Haden sighed. The morning messages were always urgent, even when they weren’t. BATTERY LOW… REPLACEMENT NEEDED… Haden tilted his head. He’d never received a message like that before. He didn’t even know his computer ran on batteries. He looked under the desk, but there was nothing there, not even wires or anything else he supposed would be underneath a computer. The top of the desk wasn’t much help. It was as empty as it always was apart from the monitor and a very small keyboard. Green letters flashed on the screen again: TECHNICIAN INCOMING… Haden’s stomach lurched. He’d never needed a technician before. Time moved slower as he waited, the cubicle walls shrinking tighter around him, growing taller and taller with every passing moment. It wasn’t until the technician arrived that he realized he was hunched over in his chair. “Morning, brother,” said a silvery voice. A dark haired woman wearing a pristinely white pair of coveralls approached him. Haden didn’t think she looked very tall, but he struggled to look up at her face from his position. He craned his neck and gave her a weak smile. Suddenly the nerve in his back vibrated up his spine like the snapping of a guitar string. Haden grunted in pain and curled even further into himself. The woman stood motionless. “There, there, now. It’ll be alright.” She laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently back against his chair. “Having trouble sleeping are we? Uh-huh. And a sharp pain in the back, yes? Oh, that’s no good.” She seemed awefully calm, Haden thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but his back flexed and spasmed out of control, forcing him to grunt instead. The woman lifted her other hand to her shoulder and grabbed the air as if there was something there. “Protocol 4-3-7,” she said sweetly. “Extraction in progress.” Haden didn’t know who she was talking to or what protocol 4-3-7 was, but when she finished speaking, he saw her reach behind him and yank at something. In the blink of an eye, everything around him changed. The three white walls vanished and three yellowed walls covered in grime appeared. The monitor, the keyboard, it was all gone. He tried to stand up but his body wouldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t respond, and when he looked down at them, his chest tightened. They were emaciated twigs strapped to a metal chair. His arms, too, were nothing more than bones wrapped in skin. His eyes grew wide, as all around him he saw a reality unlike his own, something different and horrifying to behold. Then he saw the woman. She hadn’t changed at all. “It’s alright,” she said sweetly. “It’ll be over soon.” She walked behind him out of sight. He opened his mouth to cry out but all he heard was a moan. He felt his chair swing backwards and his body went with it. He was moving now, lights on a ceiling flicking in and out of view. He could see the woman again. She was pulling him down a hallway. “St-“ he muttered, almost out of breath from the effort of speaking. “Stop,” he gasped. She didn’t stop. She wheeled him down the bright corridor and out to a place so dark he couldn’t see at first. She scooped him into her arms, carried him another twenty steps, then let go. Something snapped when he hit the ground, but Haden could no longer feel most of his body. He looked up just in time to see the dark silhouette of the woman disappearing behind four black walls that towered above him. Battery, he thought. His eyes and his mind were dimming, but as the black walls around Haden drew closer, the memory from that morning returned to him. He was walking toward the Company building in the cool, spring morning air. Blossoms were beginning to appear along the sidewalk. Red roses and yellow tulips. Pink peonies and blue hydrangeas. He stopped. A flash of white and brown had caught his eye. At his feet were the gentle petals of a lily unfolding for the sun to kiss. It was beautiful. More than that, unique. He followed the green stem to a body lying on the ground. A brown rabbit, dead and motionless, with a hole in its chest and a white lily blooming from its corpse. What will bloom out of me, Haden wondered. And he took a shivering breath, and stopped.

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Blood drips from my fingertips. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Panting through my splitted lips. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Snow falls gently on his head. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Gaping mouth, eyes cold and dead. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Pull his body to the ledge. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Leaves a crimson trail and edge. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Close my eyes and hear the thud. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Jacket soiled by sweat and blood. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Legs give out beneath the weight. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Distant hills commiserate. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Blood drips from my fingertips. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Panting. Fading. Then life slips.

It was a lovely morning on the toxic surface of Ituria. A pale sunrise peeked over the twin mountains in the east, illuminating the yellow-gray clouds that droned ever slower across the sky. Cad brushed aside a layer of ash from the breaker box then adjusted his plexi-mask. The corroded edges of the box made it hard to pry the lid off, but with an extra tug, it snapped open. The switches inside had corroded too, half of them nothing more than exposed, fraying wires. Cad said a silent prayer then clicked the top switch. A distant hum from somewhere inside the concrete wall brought a hidden smile to his face. He flipped another switch and a bulb flickered back to life above the steel door on his right. He had checked the door first and found it unlocked, but only a fool would’ve gone inside with nothing more than a flashlight. Now, as he opened the door, he saw stairs outlined in a dull orange light that felt somehow more natural than the green tinted sunrise in the sky. The door creaked closed behind him as he descended into the substation. He thought it strange to have found this place in the middle of a dead forest, covered in a layer of undisturbed gray ash and hidden by hundreds of charred pine trees. It was bound to be a goldmine of supplies: batteries, wiring, radio - maybe even food. The passageway turned sharply to the left as the stairs continued downward, eventually spilling Cad out into a large square room with rusted pipes running along the walls. At the far end was a desk littered with papers and two floor to ceiling shelves. He slid his backpack off and plopped it on the desk, his eyes hunting the gunmetal shelves for anything of value. It was better than he imagined. On the left were brand new plexi-masks, boxes of fresh filters, and four military grade walkie-talkies. He scooped up the walkies, shoved them in his bag, then he took a deep breath and unbuckled the clasps of his mask. The new mask was so clear - he hadn’t realized how scuffed and foggy his had become over months of use. He’d just assumed the dust clouds had gotten worse. The forehead cushion was much better too, softer than the old one. He took the other two masks, put them in the bag. On the right was a quart of black sealant, the lid partially opened. It was probably useless, but he added it to his things anyway. That’s when he saw the stack of canned beans on the bottom shelf. He crouched and started examining them one by one. He was too busy to notice the footsteps. “What do we have here?” said a muffled voice. Cad turned to see a lanky man in filthy overalls with a rusted machete in his hand. His face was hidden behind a discolored pair of goggles and a black respirator. He lunged toward Cad, arching his blade through the air. Cad jumped out of the way and pulled the blade from his belt in one fluid motion, slicing upward as he moved around the attacker. There was a muffled squeal. The man wildly swung his blade behind him, the crusted edge grazing the front of Cad’s mask and leaving the man completely open. Cad took his chance. He dashed forward, grabbed the man’s arm and stabbed his knife under the respirator. It sunk deep into the man’s neck, ejecting a dark red splatter across Cad’s arm. The machete chattered on the ground as the man stumbled back grasping at his neck, choking on his own blood. He slid to the ground by the desk, frantically kicking his legs. Cad put his knife away and ran a finger across a long scratch in the middle of the new plexi-mask. He sighed and looked at the bloodied man on the floor. “Seriously?!” He kicked the body over, grabbed his backpack and left. He tried to wipe the blood off his arm in the grass, but it didn’t work. Now he had to explain to Naya what happened. She’d tell him how reckless he’d been and that the supplies weren’t worth the risk, but she’d accept the contents of his backpack just the same. They needed the food, and scavenging from the supermarket wasn’t an option anymore. Pretty soon, they’d have to leave their bunker for good or starve to death in the darkness. Cad shook the thought from his mind and began walking home. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“I don’t need a partner,” Bruce said calmly. He shifted in the wide leather armchair. It had unnaturally high armrests and a broken spring in the cushion that stabbed him in the thigh. It was impossible to sit comfortably, which was probably the point. “Your psych evaluation says otherwise,” Chief Mills said. She flicked her finger across a piece of glass protruding from the desk in front of her. A document appeared on the clear surface. “The subject, “she began reading, “exhibits signs of hyperactivity and a proclivity towards aggression.“ “C’mon, chief,” Bruce said, “I’ve always been a live wire, that’s why you promoted me. I do good work and I catch bad guys. Can I go now?” “Sit back down.” Without looking, the chief pointed to the chair. Bruce slumped back down. She continued reading: “the subject’s lack of attention to detail and their inability to make decisions in the field make them unfit for duty.” “Now hold on,” Bruce interrupted. “Chief, you know me. I’m not unfit for duty.” She cut him off. “You screwed up, Bruce. You shot a civilian on your last mission, and that cannot be overlooked. Don’t speak,” she raised a hand to stop Bruce from interjecting. “I don’t care what your excuse is, the decision is already made. I blame myself for not seeing it sooner.” She pushed the glass display to the side and leaned on the desk. “The department recommended probation, but I know that will do more harm than good to a man like you. So I offer you the only alternative: a partner.” She looked over to the corner of the room. Bruce followed her gaze to the tall, dark figure standing in the corner. It stepped into the light, and looked down at Bruce. “Chief,” Bruce said after a painful silence, “you can’t be serious.” He stood up and walked over to the thin man who apparently had been in the room the whole time. “A tin man?” “ARAN is more than a tin man,” the chief replied. “You’re right - I recognize this one.” Bruce circled the tall blonde creature before stepping back in horror. “He’s been on the news. He broke into the jail two weeks ago, set a bunch of terrorist androids free.” He grabbed his gun. “He’s a criminal!” Bruce bit the words as they left his mouth. “Don’t you dare pull your weapon, Bruce,” the chief shouted. She stood quickly. “You keep that gun holstered and you listen to what we have to say. I can’t lose you right now, not with the city in the condition it is right now. I need you on the field, and a partner makes that happen. ARAN isn’t a saint, but he can help us. He wants to make amends.” Bruce looked at the motionless android watching everything unfold. “Make amends?” Bruce scoffed. “Is that what we do now? When did we start working with the bad guys instead of shutting them down!” “I assure you that shutting down the Android rebellion is exactly what Chief Mills is trying to accomplish by our union,” ARAN said plainly. “What is it saying, Tessa?” Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Android. “He’s saying there’s a chance for us to survive if this rebellion turns into all-out war,” Mills replied. Bruce froze. Survive, he thought. Who said anything about surviving? As if he read the question on Bruce’s face, ARAN said, “There is a probability of 93.623 percent that humans will cease to exist in the next two years.” “What?” Bruce went to grab his gun again. “Every human on earth will die in the next two years,” ARAN repeated. “Is that a threat?” Bruce shouted. “It’s a fact,” the chief said. “This rebellion is starting to get out of hand, and it’s not going to slow down. Soon, we’ll lose the upper hand and the androids will kill us. “The only other outcome is mutual destruction,” ARAN said. “I don’t understand,” Bruce managed to get out. “You’re saying we’re all going to die?” ARAN looked directly at Bruce. “Yes.” That one word rang in Bruce’s ears. Everything was going to end. It was always going to end eventually, but he never thought he’d be around to see it happen. “There is, however,” ARAN spoke into the silence, “an alternative. My projection of humanity’s end is based on the way things are right now: androids and humans diametrically opposed to each other. If we were to change these factors, the likelihood that mankind will survive will increase.” “What does any of this have to do with you and me?” Bruce asked. “Our partnership will be the first time humans and androids have fought alongside each other for the same cause - for survival of both our species. I was sent here to ask for your help. I am not the only Android that believes this future is possible. There are others, and they have sent me here to tell you our plan.” Bruce turned to Chief Mills. Sighing, he said, “if I say yes to this whole partnership thing, will he stop talking and get to the point?” “He just might,” she replied. “Great,” Bruce said and plopped back into the leather armchair. “Now tell me how we stop the end of the world.”

Hal Brenner stared at the reflection in front of him. It wore a black pea coat, and it’s hair was the opposite of disheveled - it looked nothing like the man in an orange jumpsuit with oily hair that hadn’t showered in days. “Look at you, Hal,” the reflection scoffed. “Why are you here, Alex?” Hal said. “Ah come on. Aren’t you excited to see your twin brother?” Alex smiled and leaned back in his chair. “How long has it been?” “Not long enough,” Hal said through his teeth. Alex clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Don’t be rude. We only have a few minutes to talk before they send you back to your cell, and we have a lot to talk about.“ Hal closed his eyes and attempted to cool the blood boiling in his veins. “I don’t need you’re help this time, so how about you go back to whatever hole in the ground you crawled out of and leave me be.” Alex shook his head. “Ah, Hal,” he said, “I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. They pulled over a speeding car, and they found you, a senator, with a mistress by your side and cocaine in your trunk.” “I don’t know how those drugs got in there. I’ve been set up.” “Maybe you were set up, but that doesn’t matter.” “The public will believe it. That’s what counts.” “It’s not that simple,” Alex said. “It’s the truth.” “They’ve arrested kids for less. And even if we cleared you of the drug charges, there’s your special friend to deal with. People don’t like it when senators cheat on their wife. The press is going to eat you alive.” “She’s nobody,” Hal shrugged, “she won’t talk.” “And what if she does?” Hal shifted in his seat. “I guess I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t.” He smiled. Alex bowed his head and leaned on the table protruding on his side of the glass. “You’re reckless, Hal. And you’ve never understood that your choices have consequences. I used to think you were so great.” He looked up, his eyes piercing deep into Hal. “You worked hard, you married a great woman. You brought two beautiful children into the world.” Alex gritted his teeth. “But I was wrong. You’ve never been great. You’ve just gotten lucky!” Hal laughed. “So this is why you came to visit me. You want to criticize my life and make me feel bad. Sorry, brother, but it’s not working.” “What happens when Jess finds out? Have you thought about that?” “She won’t find out.” “But what if she does? She would be devastated. Philip and Debby - they’d be horrified to know what their perfect father is really capable of.” “Don’t lecture me about family,” Hal said. “You’re the one who shut themselves off from the world only to appear randomly whine about my life choices. Well, I’ve heard about enough of you’re whining for today.” He stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading back to my cell now. If my legal team is worth a dime, I’ll be home by tomorrow afternoon, and everything will be straightened out.” He turned and began walking away. “Do me a favor, Alex - don’t come visit.” “I’m afraid,” said Alex, “you won’t be going home tomorrow, brother.” Hal stopped, his blood boiling again. He turned and saw Alex looking back with a grin on his face. “What are you getting at?” Hal said. “You’re not going home tomorrow,” Alex repeated. “Tomorrow, your charges will be dropped, and your whore will be paid off, but you - you won’t be going home. No, you’re staying right here.” His grin pulled into a smile as he stood. “I gave up everything for you to have your perfect little life. I’ve sat back and watched you wreck it all for too long. You’ve had your chance. Now it’s my turn.” Hal stood frozen in horror. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying it’s over,” Alex said as he stood. “You’re a black stain in the fabric of our family, and I’m bleaching you out. Tomorrow morning, your record will be expunged and I will go home in your place. The warden here will find a nice white cell for you to ruin with your filth.” “That’s ridiculous!” Hal cried. “You can’t just take my name and lock me away in here!” “Oh but I can,” Alex said. “Nobody knows I exist. You said it yourself, I’ve been hiding from the world for a long time. Thankfully we still look nearly identical.” The new reality washed over Hal as Alex continued to speak. “Nobody will recognize the switch. Any difference they see, they’ll quickly accept. A distant husband becomes passionate. An angry father becomes loving again. Every thing they endured with you will be replaced by something better.” Hal could barely move much less speak, but he tried to utter his words in a dry throat. “Alex, I’m your brother. We can work something out, I’ll learn to be better. You can help me! No more hiding,” he smiled weakly. “How does that sound?” “It’s too late for that,” Alex said. His words rang in the room like the final chime of a grandfather clock. The room fell into a dull silence. “Goodbye brother,” Alex said and turned. “Enjoy your new life. And don’t worry - you won’t be seeing me again.”

Penelope Grit was a lovely girl with a terrible habit of losing things. It started with her pencils in the third grade. The hair ties started disappearing soon after that. And then of course the occasional sock would vanish in thin air, but who’s never lost one of those? When she started freshman year at Union High, she started losing friends. I suppose a lot of people lose friends in high school, but not like this. Penelope’s friends disappeared. Sammy Gilman was the first. She thought he’d just been avoiding her in the hallways, until she spoke with Miss Quig in homeroom. “There’s no-one by that name at this school. Never has been,” Miss Quig said and looked over her half-moon glasses. “Are you feeling alright, Penelope? I can schedule a meeting with the school counselor if you like.” Penelope didn’t like that at all. She didn’t like her shrinking pool of friends either. Sammy wasn’t the last friend Penelope lost. There were eight of them in total: Sammy, Victoria, Ben, Jake, Timber, Kylie, Nathan, and Tom. Completely lost from the world and erased from the memories of the not-lost. Except for Penelope. She remembered them all. And by remembering, she kept them alive in a dark place that no-one knew existed: the place where lost things go. That was her theory. Her friends were still alive, they were just out of reach. And if she reached far enough in the right direction, she just might find them again. But which was the right direction? Where do you search when you don’t know where to look? A week ago, Penelope disappeared. She stopped showing up for school, so I went by her house to check on her. Mr. and Mrs. Grit said I must’ve had the wrong house - they didn’t have any children. If her theory holds, I think my friend Penelope is in the place of discarded things - forgotten along with everything else she struggled to keep hold of. She reached far enough into the emptiness and finally found her friends, but she lost herself along the way. Do I look for her? Do I risk losing myself in the process? I don’t know. But her only connection to our world now is me. If she’s still alive, I need to keep it that way. So for now, I’ve lost her. There’s no telling when I’ll find her again, but it’s better this way. One day, perhaps I’ll stumble upon her unexpectedly walking down the street. One day, she’ll find her way back home, and we’ll see each other again.

I wish you the best. I wish your feet would ache from standing too long and working too hard. I wish your chest would tighten from too much laughter. I wish your back would hurt from spending all day helping a friend move. I wish your eyes would burn with tears from seeing your loved ones achieve their goals. I wish you the best. But none of this will ever happen. You’ll stay at home and make your excuses, and in the end your body will swell, not from adventure and love, but with diabetes and fat. I wish things could be different, but you never change. You were never there when I needed you most, and you won’t be there when I need you again. I’m done with wishful thinking. You make your choices, I’ll make mine. I wish you the best.