Possibility

By: Lauren Spagnoletti

The smell is the same every year. It was the same at five, ten, twenty. The same before kids as it is after kids.

The smell of spring.

Somehow the warmth in the air, coupled with the scent of the blooming flowers, smells like hope and possibility. There’s so much to be done when it’s beautiful outside, and no longer dark and cold.

The yearning to be in nature doesn’t change as you grow older. You still crave running and playing and soaking it all in. But you crave it more now, because you also crave it for your children.

Slime Art

By: Melissa Ratliff

It had been working on its slime trail all morning, each movement a calculated effort for maximum effect. The intricate pattern was unmatched and with the angle of the sun just right, it glistened like a road of softly crushed diamonds. It might’ve been its best yet. But the vile human did not appreciate its work, Pat noticed, as a new bowl of PBR was lurking beneath the bush. Pat had lost more aunts/uncles, cousins, siblings, and offspring that way than it cared to count. Pointing its tentacles towards the neighbor’s porch, Pat started slowly inching towards its blank canvas.

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