“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?”