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By the time the sun had finally set, I walked over to the nearest gas station for a six pack and a king-sized candy bar. Andre, the typical cashier, wasn’t on shift – instead, a beautiful young woman with pulled back brown hair was overseeing the till. When she saw me enter, she smiled in that usual “I’m stuck in a service retail job, please shoot me” way as I navigated the tiny aisles.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 04.27.2019
The train station. Every time. I wondered aloud why this was the spot she picked every time when she materialized out of mist that wasn’t there. “Hello.” Always the same greeting. Same tone. As though we were meeting for the first time. Every time.
By Allena Sharpe on 04.27.2019
She stood at the station, it was the last place she saw him. She didn’t know if he’d ever come back again but why not just try? She was a believer in fate and this felt like it could be a game of fate. She held her breath as the 8:45 train pulled in, he needed to be on it, he was last time.
By Talia on 04.28.2019
She listened for the whistle, hoping beyond hope that the train was late. Rather than early. Which it usually was. If she had missed it, it was all over. She held her breath and looked at the large clock in the square across the street.
By Bridget Grace URL on 04.28.2019
By Jessen Yeoh on 04.28.2019
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.