Hiraeth – by Rhonda E Carper

With her right hand at one o’clock on the steering wheel and left hand deep into a one-pound bag of Mister Bee potato chips, Aunt Mary Jo remarked, “We’ll just keep going until we get there.”

What Will You Say? – by Andrew Shaughnessy

Should warmth be a word reserved to the world of touch? Laughter

and joy, reserved to the world of emotion?

Thoughts and Prayers – by Renee Cronley

The pungent scent of sulfur

fires out from the gangrenous fumes

of societal decay we don’t smell anymore

I Sensed It Was Beginning – I Sensed It Was Ending – by Lindsey Harrington

The burnt roast from yesterday hanging in the air,
another, in a long list of disappointments.

“So, what does teen spirit smell like, anyways?” – by Katharine Weinmann

In my day, pot and patchouli perfumed bedrooms and back seats.
Sandalwood incense bought by donation from dubious Hare Krishna monks
chanting on the corner.

To Flame, To Flee – by Jay McKenzie

I have been chosen because I can move silently with my nimble feet not yet weighted by adulthood, though tonight, I feel clumsy

Stowaway – by Mel Andela

“Quick, to the bathroom.” Lena waves her hand, though I am right behind her. “Can you keep it quiet when we go by mom’s door?”

To The Alps – by Andrew Shaughnessy

“What about him?” he asked, nodding toward the stuffed toy giraffe sitting in the plush green velour chair across the table from Sarah. “Doesn’t he have a ticket?”

Tiny Smuggler – by N.E. Rule

“You’ve already searched me and found nothing,” Sam says.

I Miss the Stars – by Melissa Grace Reeve

In the summer, it’s not dark until well after he should be asleep in bed.