Cicadas

Gary’s gasping two-hand tap against the wall earned second place in the breaststroke. Pete had less time to breathe.

First in the butterfly - their final high school triumph shared.

Later, they met in the shower. Whispers were overpowered by streaming water.

Gary’s kiss goodbye burned as a beloved's should.

“You’re sure? My heart...so damn broken.” A lump choked his every word.

“Me, too.” Gary held him. “But we’ll be one thousand miles apart.”

Later, Pete laid in the tall grass behind the aquatic center. Silver-voiced male cicadas polished their mating song in desperation, chanting for a miracle.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier

End Of The Line

Grace ran her finger over the word.

TERMINATED

She over-pronounced each syllable. The word crashed off her computer’s screen. The “t” chipped the floor with its hook. The “e” cracked the tile, and the rest of the letters tumbled into the void.

“Didn’t tell me in person.” The night beacon, bedroom clock blinked 11:15.

In her unkempt kitchen, she knelt beside the sink. Ants crawled, a living chain of perfect order. They bypassed her bait. Scouts explored on. Workers followed trails through the cracks. But in the hive, the queen risked nothing.

Life balanced on the pinhole of a hilltop.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier

Educated

At a student’s desk, she wept. A cheerful message written earlier on the whiteboard: “How are you, Miss Jimenez?” in English and Spanish.

“You can press charges, but I wouldn’t advise it,” one assistant principal said. “He is getting suspended for one day. Any bruises?”

Jimenez hung her head. “No, sir.”

“I’d advise taking a personal day, but it’s so hard getting a sub. Besides, you don’t want to look weak,” the other assistant principal said. The radio squawked - an emergency in the bus lane. The AP’s rushed down the hall on the only day Jimenez left at 4:30.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier