Fiction

At the edge of a cliff I stand tall. I stare up at the Wind. The Wind pushes me. I close my eyes, bracing myself upon the rock. As the Wind hits me, I squint, eyes tearing up. The Wind stops. I bend over, breathing heavily.

There goes Mr. Wilson birdwatching right on time, 9:34 AM. Magnolia waves their branches at him, but of course he doesn’t wave back. That’s how humans are, after all. I wish I didn’t have so many squirrels running about.

Dear Anna,

I will never forget what happened today.

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Aurora

Today, I am getting a tattoo. I am getting a permanent work of art, smack dab on my forearm. It is going to be a daffodil. I walked into the tattoo parlor, and decided that this is my fate. 

Otherworlder: I sit and I watch them go along with their animals, or pets as they call them. They love these animals that they have tamed, walk them around, caress or "pet" them, feed them, sometimes even buy them lavish gifts.

Over the course of a day, there are many people to be seen.

“Hello, and welcome to my Living With Homo Sapiens support group. My name is 143-A, and I will be leading this exercise. Please introduce yourselves.”

“Hello, my name is 974-G.”

They show me their phones, little boxes with even tinier little boxes that you press on and it fills up the big box. My girl taps one of the tiny boxes, it's purple and white and orange and she calls it in-sta-gram.

My hand lingers on the door frame, atoms of space between my fingertips and the shiny wood. My eyes skim the room from side to side, window to window. It’s small but it feels big at the same time.

My fingers tremble as I take slow step after slow step toward the end of the Polaris hallway.