I'm still sitting here. The screen went dark three minutes ago and I haven't moved. Just me and glowing notification icons on my phone and this weird pressure in

I was sitting at a restaurant last Tuesday when I saw Marcus across the room. Marcus, who I'd mentored through his first two years at my former company. Marcus, to whom

I was standing in my kitchen last Tuesday morning, staring at a blank document on my laptop. The cursor blinked. My coffee grew cold. I had this essay I needed to write (had

I was standing in the poetry section of a used bookstore when I realized I had been talking to myself for the better part of three minutes. Not the muttering under your breath

I'm standing in the wine aisle at Trader Joe's, holding two bottles of Merlot that cost exactly the same amount, and one of them is significantly heavier than the