by Brian Burmeister We had just sat down for lunch when James got waved over to another table. His girlfriend broke up with him over the weekend, and he was going over there to talk to her.

by Dianne Poston Owens It’s a Monday. I’m parked in the shade of an oak tree, listening to Raeford. All is quiet after the bells.

by Jill Hand It’s quiet, and you can hear clocks ticking slowly and patiently. Dust motes spin and whirl in the dim light. It is the kind of scene that you might encounter in a dream, but this is not a dream.