The Pensieve

By Elizabeth Smith One day I'll lose her besting me at cards, her urging me to munch the turkey lunch, her dreaming Pappy after funeral-day, her holding in those slender arms a loose-toothed me— She whispered  Pal. I churn and chill her cream.

  By Emily Dickinson Editor's note: During particularly chaotic periods, like the one we are currently living through,  it is easy to feel that what we do doesn't make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. This short poem by Emily Dickinson, however, is a powerful reminder of the impact of simple, small acts of kindness. If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

By Rachelle Larsen       We ride the roar of eight cylinders, orange sand frothing around the massive tires of our rented Rubicon, our bodies bouncing to the rhythm of tire-stained boulders. I’m thrown to the right, and I smash my arm against the window. To check for damage, I start waving my hand back and forth to the beat of the engine like I’m saying goodbye. My best friend James and I are off-roading the Chicken Corners Trail in Moab to celebrate my birthday.      “How’s your wrist? I saw you hit it pretty hard.”      James is staring straight ahead at the miles of ragged, burnt desert, his neck stiff from always—always—looking forward, even when the Jeep jerks him towards me, or me towards him. Even when I wish our eyes would meet. Even when he speaks to me, as he does now.      “It’s fine…” I say. “Something’s just not quite in place.”      “That doesn’t sound good.”      “Do you know what also doesn’t sound good? Morty.” I stop waving, ignoring the wrongness in my wrist. It does

By Sean Oliver      Kaitlin and Ron were, in every sense of the word, complete and utter soul mates. From the beginning a person would not be able to stumble upon one without seeing the other. During the wear and tear of the day it was easy to see they were made for each other, and away from prying eyes at night their bodies would lie entwined, rolled together in a knot during those intimate moments made possible only in the dark.      Every night of bliss comes with a morning of responsibility, and with a dull sliding click of their dresser’s drawer they would be out—walking the dog, running to the pharmacy, picking the kids up from school—and the list of errands grew with the steady tread of years. Together life wore them out, though the stitching of their love protected them from the holes other couples often found in themselves. Life wasn’t perfect, as both were a little awkward at times: Kaitlin had a habit of putting her foot in her mouth, and she often toed the line in social se