Main Dishes

The first thing I noticed was the smell of chamomile. Not the comforting, sleepy-time kind. The kind that hits you in the back of the throat when you realize someone cleaned the counters a little too well for a Tuesday afternoon. I’d landed at O’Hare three hours earlier than planned. The keynote in Dallas was…

Part 2: The Silence Between Heartbeats The shatter of glass echoed in the frozen air like a broken promise. I pressed my back against the icy brick of the warehouse, my lungs burning with the effort of not breathing too loud. The world had narrowed to a pinprick of sound: the crunch of heavy boots…

The fluorescent lights at Holloway Field buzzed like angry hornets trapped in glass. I could smell the burnt coffee from two gates away. It mixed with the wet wool smell of my dead cousin’s coat—the brown one I wore because my own jacket still smelled like the hospice room and I couldn’t wash that smell…

I didn’t look back when I walked out of that office. The door clicked shut behind me with a soft, final sound that echoed louder than any slam. My boots made a steady rhythm against the polished hallway floor, and I counted each step to keep my breathing even. Five steps to the stairwell. Twelve…

Part 2 I left Mr. Gallagher’s office with the echo of his laughter still ringing in my ears, a strange and unfamiliar sound that had somehow recalibrated the entire frequency of my existence. For eight months, I had been walking through my life with my shoulders braced for impact, waiting for the financial or emotional…

Part 1: The Gathering Storm At dawn on the fifth day, 1,800 motorcycles lined her street like a river of steel, exhaust, and chrome. The noise was enough to rattle the fillings in your teeth. It was a terrifying, awe-inspiring sight that brought an entire suburban neighborhood to a grinding, trembling halt. But to understand…

PART 1 My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. No matter how many times I pressed my palms flat against the heavy, synthetic fabric of my graduation gown, the trembling wouldn’t stop. I told myself it was just adrenaline. I told myself it was the sheer gravity of the moment. But deep down, sitting in the fourth…

Part 1 The fire was already eating the roof when he smelled it. It wasn’t the faint, distant scent of burning leaves or a neglected cigarette. It was heat. That thick, bitter, metallic heat that crawls down the back of your throat and coats your lungs before your brain can even catch up and scream…

PART 1 The wind bit through Jack Callahan’s heavy leather jacket like thousands of tiny, frozen daggers. December in the isolated town of Pinewood, Montana, showed absolutely no mercy to anyone foolish enough to be out after sundown. The town looked almost entirely abandoned under the fresh, blinding blanket of snow that had been falling…

PART 1 Snow was already killing me when I saw the skid marks slicing across Interstate 90. My name is Ava. I was seventeen years old, and I was entirely, completely alone. The wind howling across the flat fields outside Billings, Montana, shoved at my back like it was trying to erase me from the…