Ink Stained Paper Cuts

The mission wasn’t over. Olivia glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was watching. Drained the pot of boiling pasta, and pulled the glass pan from the microwave. Dropped the contents in a blender, and added the ingredients from a saucepan on the stove. The blender whirled to life when she flipped the switch. Noise reverberated around the kitchen. Feet clambered upstairs, and Olivia hurried to empty the mixture from the blender into the pan of macaroni before the…

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They said she was important, but only called when they wanted help. Their first thought in a crisis, their last for fun. Sometimes she wondered if she was invisible, a phantom floating through life. If ghosts were real, she might have acknowledged the wayward image. Instead, she batted it away, mind flitting to the next thought. If she vanished into the night, how long before they realized she was gone? She double-tapped their party photos to appease them, but her…

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He couldn’t remember being this cold before. Not as a child playing outside in the snow, or hours spent at hockey games. The polar bear plunge was frigid, but a temporary chill before warming up again. He knew the freezing chill of a pond after falling through its thin ice one winter. Remembered waking to chattering teeth the year he’d gone camping and woke to his tent covered in ice and snow. It had taken five minutes to break out…

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