Every day on my way home from school I pass the same playground and every day there is a pick up game of basketball being played by kids my age. I always want to ask to play but I never know how and they always seem to have a full game. Today however, I only see five. They aren’t going to play three on two I think. This is my time to try and join in. I walk over and raise my hand. My mouth blurts out “need another?” before I even stop think how lame I sound. One guy gives me a quick look up and down then quickly says “no” and looks away. Damn. As I start to turn to leave another kid says “Wait, we need him, even if he just passes us the ball we can’t beat them a man down.” The first kid grunts “fine.” I’m in. First few times up the court I don’t get the ball much, and when I do one of them wants it right back. Thats fine, I’m just happy to play. Tie game and they have the ball. They make a bad pass and it lands right in my hands. Without thinking I start dribbling down the court. Everyone scrambling to get in position. The boy who didn’t want me to play makes it to under the basket and starts demanding the ball like he’s never wanted anything more in his life. As soon as I look at him his man tightens up and mine starts running towards him. This is it, this is my chance. As soon as I begin my shot I hear the boy yelling, no, my shot, pass it. Too late, the shot is up. My man can’t recover and come back in time. It’s in, I did it, we win. I hear one voice shout “yes sir, that’s game!” I look up and the other boy is storming towards me. He’s mad. That was his moment. He thinks I stole it. He stops in front of me, looks me up and down again and holds out his fist. I jump back nervous. We won, he wants to fight me for winning the game? Dude looks around confused, steps up to me and holds it out again this time more assertive. I put my hands up, is he really this mad about not getting the game winning shot? Now even more annoyed he looks at me and says “Bro, come on. Knuckle me” Everyone else looks confused and starts walking closer to us. I did the only thing I could think of. I punched him first. “WHAT THE HELL?!” I heard him say as he scrambled to get up/ the kids from the other team hold him back as the other kid from ours pushes me and asks me what my deal is. “What’s my deal? He was so mad I took that shot he wanted to fight me!” Everyone stops and stares. Someone, I don’t even remember who finally says a deflated “what?” I look around, now also confused.” He stormed over and shook his fist at me, TWICE, then said come on and knuckles. I’ve never been in a fight before was I not supposed to hit first?” Everyone immediately starts laughing like it was the funniest joke I’ve ever told. Now I’m really confused. Now not being held back the boy says “no you idiot, knuckles, like give me knuckles, a fist bump, I was saying good job you idiot.” I’d never been so embarassed in my life. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I’m so awkward I’m sorry” I looked around nervously again. He looks at me finally chuckles and says “No problem I guess” then he punched me right in my stomach and said now we’re even, see you back here tomorrow, same teams!” Everyone laughed and started walking home.

Pittsburgh to Philadelphia, Dreaming of the place I love, Sweet purple flowers falling into a beautiful pile of confetti on the sidewalks. and the scent of delicious bud, How things could just be sweet, Easy, Chill. Fun. Weird.

But I’m always stuck in PA, The wrong Oakland. So I reach for the drugs, Reach out to the plug. For sure need a buzz, I have got to be numb, Cause I can’t stand the pain.

But half that pain would go away, If I could get to LA. And if I could stay, Make that permanent change, Rather than a brief escape, To get myself through yesterday. But I can barely even pray.

Just the smells and the tastes From the great golden state, I’d be content enough To try to be tough, And to end every day With a smile on my face.

That is the American dream that I chase, I will not settle for this state. Each and every moment spent outside LA Is just a waste. Life in Pennsylvania is leaving me zero grace. The city of angels is meant to be my place,

So I will keep that dream alive In hopes that one day I’ll be fine, In Hollywood where I can unwind Finally allowing a slight break from the pain inflicted by my own tortured mind, It’s the only peace I’ve been able to find, And now it’s my turn to shine Underneath the Hollywood lights, Breathing in those heavenly nights.

Carefully he tries to keep his balans. His feet moving up and down and make him move forward. “Keep going”, I shout to him. His hands are still shaking a bit, but he’s got a smile on his face. Who had thought that riding a bicycle could be so exciting. He’d never done it before, but since he was visiting me in the Netherlands, of course I had to let him ride a bike. So I put him on one of my old bycicles, helped him getting started and now he was paddeling on the bike path all by himself.

"Trust me, if you walked one minute in my shoes you'd want to run as fast as you can" Those words burned into her mind. Etched deep within her amygdala, the most primitive part of the brain, as the screeching alarm bells blared in her mind. Sharon had never experienced such a sensation. It was all encompassing. Crippling. She wiped at her forehead, beads of sweat raining down quicker than she could dry them off. She felt an overwhelming sense of dread but nothing in her environment had changed. She was perfectly safe in her one bedroom condo. The entire building was only accessible to other residents. There was no threat. She was safe. Despite this knowing, she clutched her chest, each breath getting shorter and shorter as her mind raced a hundred thoughts at once. What is this? She screamed. Nobody answered but she remembered the words "you'll want to run as fast as you can" and so she did.

**let me know if the experience that Sharon is feeling is easy to figure out

When I once got mad over chores,

Swearing that she never did anything.

That if I was soft, Weak, Sensitive, Flawed, I would be loved.

You swore not.

But all I saw was her sitting on the couch drawing.

With my raw hatred and bitter anger, I saw favoritism.

“If you talk back again, you’ll go to your dads!”

“If I do, I’ll just kill myself. Fine.”

“Then do it! Go ahead and kill yourself!”

My scowl faltered then.

I could feel my throat closing and my eyes blinking rapidly, suddenly I was staring at the ceiling.

My love for her was the same.

But I am not sure if hers was the same.

Perhaps it had molded to something else: Something ugly and bitter, a world far away from pleasantry.

My anger that had quickly grew for reasons I did not know, had dissapated to the feeling of estrangement.

I am flawed, yet I have not received any love nor flowers for this trait,

O’ Mother, my Mother.

Hello! Welcome to our show, where we take a look at odd specimens and how they live their lives. On today’s show we have Sage the window cleaner. Sage has lived in the same 400 square foot apartment in New York City for 4 years. Why 4 years? Because the place they lived before this got their rent hiked up due to COVID, so Sage had to move to a worse part of town in Manhattan. Of course, they still live in Manhattan, so there’s that. Sage is allergic to both cats and dogs (not that the landlord would let them own pets anyway), they are single, and have no family of any kind. All of those phone calls you get from relatives asking how you are, and what you are doing at all hours of the day? Not for Sage, it would seem. They live a totally solitary life. Have I mentioned that they are single? Not on purpose, I am afraid. They have been “taking a break from dating for my mental health” for about 2 years. That means that there are no babies crying to feed in the morning, nor is there a partner asking why they haven’t been keeping up with them. Admittedly, Sage was never good at the love thing. Remember Meatloaf? “I would do anything for love”? Well, Sage would do nothing for love, and would tell you the same. Not to mention, since they have no pets, no dogs are hitting to go out in the middle of the night, and no cats are messing around with what’s on the countertop. They wake up every day to the sound of their alarm and the general hum of traffic that comes with living in the city. They get dressed for work, eat a Pop-Tart, drink a cup or two of coffee, and head towards the job site. They are a contractor, hopping from tower to tower on a daily basis. They typically commute using the subway system, occasionally walking if the site was close enough. Then they start their job. Not a people person? Then window washing may be for you. Getting lifted hundreds of feet in the air just to wipe shit off of the windows of some business’s office building may sound like it gets old. …It does. But if you are an introvert like Sage, this kind of gig is perfect. Just plug in your headphones and jam out to some classic tunes. Oddly enough, watching YouTube while eating your packed lunch does not feel different 300 feet in the air. Once their work day is complete, they pack up, and come home. They take the same walk or train ride back to the apartment, badge in at the fob, take the elevator, then come back in. All while not talking to anybody or interacting with anyone. They do this five days a week, 52 weeks in a year. Sometimes, if they’re feeling hoppy, they may take a vacation to somewhere nice like Maine or Vermont. No, I’m not joking, that’s actually where they go.

Sammie Langston was a girl of wealth. Her mothers mothers mothers mother had helped found one of the biggest college in their town. She was the first woman to graduate college in their town. She became a business woman who became president of a boarding school outside town. Then she opened the college. Sammie’s family gained much wealth from the college. Sammie’s great grandmother was a dean at the college. Sammies grandmother oversaw the advisors. Sammies mother had been on every major committee. Then there was Sammie. She had graduated high school and was going to said college. She was getting her degree in biology as it was her best subject. Sammie was a very bright girl. She was also quite spoiled. Her mother and father lived in a huge house only a few miles from the campus. They had housekeepers and chefs and drivers. Sammie had a wardrobe full of designer clothes. Her father was a lawyer for the college and had gotten Sammie a Mercedes for her sixteenth birthday. It was expected that she graduated college. Everyone in her family had. She was no exception as the oldest child of her parents. She also had a younger sister who spent her days downtown with her friends and boyfriend. Sammie did her schoolwork and did things she considered hard work. In the afternoons, she did tennis. On Sunday mornings she did yoga. She occasionally dropped in on committee meetings with her mother. She ran a charity to help poor people get access to clothes for jobs. It was a lot of work. Despite all this work, Sammie had never actually had a job before. The college was free, her parents bought her everything she needed. A job would just add unnecessary stress. She was a very pretty girl, she couldn’t ruin her looks with stress. She saw the college kids her age who were stressed. Dark bags, frown lines, acne, unkempt hair, hunched backs?! No thank you. Sammie looked in her floor length mirror after her shower one day. Her brown eyes were sparkling. Her brown hair was shiny and starting to curl. Her mocha skin was blemish free. She chose an outfit, mini skirt and long sleeve top, to wear for dinner and studying with her best friend. Her best friend was Alice Coolly. She went to college with her and she was an oil heiress. Once a week the two of them ordered dinner and studied at Alice’s apartment. Sammie lived at home and Alice’s family lived in Dubai, so Alice had a huge penthouse downtown. Obviously they were going to drink champagne and eat take out Mediterranean food while Alice worked on marketing research and Sammie read her biology textbook. That day, Sammie got home from Alice’s house and threw her belongings on the ground. She would go up to her room that night with everything neatly put back. Thania, their housekeeper, had been with them since Sammie was in middle school. She knew how all the Langston’s liked their things. Sammie plopped herself into a chair and scrolled through her phone. She makes sure to turn her phone off during studying so she has to catch up. Her English professor sent the book they were going to write for the midterm. The social committee was planning a winter dance. Her study group for math was trying to get together. Her tennis buddies were talking about competing in a tennis tournament in a few weeks. She spent the next hour of her time texting people back. Then her father came home from work and told the family to meet in the kitchen. Sammie sighed and sat at her usual seat at the table. Her little sister, Ellie, sat across from her. Her hair was cut in a cute long bob and her nails looked freshly manicured. Their mother sat at the foot of the table and their father at the head. That’s when he dropped a bomb on the girls. He wanted them to start working. He pulled up a picture he had recieved on his phone. Ellie and her friends at high end stores, putting small trinkets in their pockets. Small gems and rings and pens. Sammie glared at her sister. Stealing? Really? Ellie started to cry at the thought of working while her friends got to lounge around. Their father said he would not raise menaces. He would not have to see them in court, being accused of crimes. He said he had gotten them both jobs at the country club. Ellie would be working at the smoothie bar. Sammie would be a hostess at the bistro. He said it was to keep them out of trouble and learn to be responsible. He also said that the money they earned would be all they were allowed to use to buy things like new clothes and food. The next Monday, Sammie was driven to the country club. She was to work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from noon until four. She had to wear a white shirt and black slacks. Her hair also had to be tied up. The first day felt like a disaster. She filled a section with no server. She threw a whole bin of sodas away on accident. She even closed the door on an older ladys finger. She had never been so exhausted in her life. Ellie worked weekends and came home on her first day covered in green smoothie. She had forgotten the top to the blender. Their dad sat with them every evening with a smug look on his face. Their mother drank more wine but let this absurdity go on. As the days passed, Sammie got better at her job. She spent mornings in class and afternoons at work. She did her homework in the evenings and made new tennis buddies on the weekend. She felt she related more with the other kids that had to work than with her rich friends. She tried attending committee meetings, but realized she’d rather spend her time at work. She liked her coworkers and liked seeing a healthy paycheck every other week. Ellie ended up getting fired from the smoothie stand after a few months for giving away free smoothies. Her dad had given up and she went back to her friends. Sammie graduated with her biology degree and ended up working at a research lab at the college. She ended up finding a drug that slowed down Parkinsons disease. She got married to a man from her college bistro job and had two girls. Ellie went to college for a bit, but was kicked out after an arrest for grand theft auto. She was cut off from the family but married an older man from the country club. She had a son with him and when the man died, she moved to London and married a pop star. The college ended up getting run by another founder’s descendant. Sammie still donated a lot of time and money to the college, so her family still had stock in it, but they weren’t required to make any decisions about it. Unfortunately, as Sammie reached middle age, the college shut down. The new owners ran it dry. It was a great piece of history and ended up becoming a community college owned by the state. Sammie learned to work and found herself in the process.

**“Are they looking at me,” Lana questioned her heads voice deafening. **

“They are looking at me,” she says. “They see me crying at a piece of paper, they must thing I’m so weird,” Lana’s heads voice exclaimed. Lana looks down at the earth science quiz paper soaked in her salty tears. She feels her chest tightening like someone is grasping her heart. Her legs start shaking rapidly. Her desk is now shaking becuse of her bodies response. She soon lets out a horrendous crying sound; that is a mix of barely being able to talk or breath with sharp breaths and sounds of crying. Her teacher tells her to go outside in the hallway to calm down it’s that bad. Lana starts wondering,”what did I do wrong? I was just crying.” She never understands why this happens. But Lana can’t help but feel dissatisfied at herself.

My bags begin to slip from my perspiring hands. I cling onto their handles as tightly as I would onto the edge of a cliff. These two women have taken me into their expansive home for a temporary stay. I revel in its beauty. No cigar smell, or any pungent scents reaching my nostrils. The low ceiling lights shine yellow like a yolk, not one dimming bulb. The clean walls around me provide as the white egg shells.

“Make yourself at home, Lilly.” The woman on my right, Carrie, kneels down. Her eyes are like honey, the warmth of their gaze too good to be true. They drop to the slashes on my wrists, to the bruises on my forearms, and finally over my shoulder. Her hand forks through her frizzy blonde hair, her long, manicured nails like claws. The woman on my left, Amy, placed her hand against my back and led me upstairs. The familiar, uneven surface of scar tissue rubbing gently against me. My body tenses.

“I have a surprise for you, Miss Lilly.”

A stuffed teddy bear is held out to me like an offering. It’s missing left eye is replaced with a deep blue button. Tentatively, I reach for the stuffed toy, as if anticipating the revealing of its pointed teeth.

“I got it from a toy store a long time ago. Fixed it myself too,” Amy said proudly. “A simple needle and thread can go a long way.”

I place my bags down and wrap my hand around its tiny, soft body. It felt unnaturally new, like the many unfitting clothes I’ve worn on my back. My pointer finger and thumb grab onto its stuffed arm, dangling it like a pendulum before my interested eyes.

“You like it?”

I press it against my chest and hold it like a baby. “Yes. Thank you…” The words come out slow, almost fearfully.

“Your welcome!”

I choke back a sigh of relief. This mask of kindness may only last a few hours, possibly a day, but it’s appreciated nevertheless. It’s been years since my presence didn’t bribf disappointment or anger to the people who chose to take me in, so I relish in this gratitude like a child plant absorbing the last rays if sunlight. Meanwhile, my eyes move to the scar on Amy’s hand.

“Oh this?” She held it flat in front of her. “I burnt myself on accident while cooking. We’re kind of matching, aren’t we?”

I nod, enthralled with the size of it. It was a large splotch directly in the center, blanketed with scabbed flesh during the slow years of healing.

She closes her fingers around the darkened flesh of the wound.

“If you need anything, just holler. We’ll be in the kitchen.” She patted my cheek and left.

My room fascinated me more than the grand enterance. The bed is a grand centerpiece, large and soft like the clouds angels would rest on. It’s soft covers were patterned with tiny white flowers, like bits of snow. A nightstand lay next to it. I listen for the chatter of rats. Nothing but the faint conferring of Carrie and Amy.

“Oh, poor thing. What have they done to her?”

“She’ll be okay. We know we can keep her safe.”

I unpack my bags, laying the clothes carefully in neat piles on the floor. My new teddy bear is piled amongst the pillows. I will now be referring to him as Terry.

This new world I live in is enthralling, but unreal. An invisible veil of sympathy seems to blanket the house. The furniture it swallows possesses an artificial luxury, like living in a dollhouse.

The thought of being a toy, a possession, leads my hand to seek Terry. I press him to my chest.

He smells like lillies.

Tears fall down my cheeks, and for the first time, it’s painless.

Let’s go for a bike ride! But I don’t know how. You never learned. Wow, let’s go. I’ll teach you!