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Weekly Contest #354
The first gift shop on the Moon was also the last thing to close.Martin had been given two days to inventory the remaining merchandise before the shuttle took him home: thirty-seven snow globes containing no snow, ninety-two shirts that said I NEED MY SPACE, a crate of freeze-dried ice cream that had expired on Earth before ever leaving it, and one thousand six hundred miniature blue planets suspended from silver keychains.The keychains were the worst. They hung beside the register in neat rotating columns, tiny Earths lacquered to a shine, ...
Weekly Contest #353
The glacier began returning things in the wrong order.At first, June called this impossible, then imprecise, then statistically interesting, which was the word people used when impossible had filled out the proper paperwork.The first object was a leather boot, found by a trail maintenance crew near the lower moraine, half-submerged in gray meltwater. It was stiff as a hoof and small enough to suggest either a child or a century with different expectations for feet. June logged it as Object 24-061: boot, leather, approximate date unknown, pla...
Weekly Contest #352
Carol had been tasting yellow since she was four years old. Cold butter — specifically the kind left out overnight — soft enough to spread but still carrying the chill of the refrigerator. She had never found this remarkable. Everyone experienced something, she assumed, until she was nine and mentioned it to her mother and learned that no, in fact, they did not. She had not mentioned it to anyone since. The condition, as she thought of it — never a gift, never a curse, just a condition, like her mild asthma or her tendency to underestimate d...
Weekly Contest #351
I have been many things. I was, first, a dream — a set of blueprints spread across a folding table in 1979, held down at the corners by a coffee thermos and two ashtrays. The architect who drew me had a mustache and a conviction, shared widely in those days, that the future would smell like Orange Julius, and Hot Dog on a Stick, and climate-controlled air. He was not wrong. He was just early. Then I was construction — the shriek of steel, the pour of concrete, the slow rise of my three stories above a cornfield that had not yet forgiven the ...
Weekly Contest #350
The first notice was a warning.Not a fine, not yet. Just a gently worded letter from the Homeowners Association informing me that I had been observed “experiencing my property in a manner inconsistent with community standards,” which I had not previously realized was something a person could do wrong.I read it twice.Then a third time, slower.Caroline was in the kitchen, rinsing something that didn’t need rinsing.“What does it say?” she asked.“They think I’m not enjoying myself correctly,” I said.She dried her hands and took the letter from m...
Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31st. I have decided to accept it as real. It feels like the kind of day that should not exist, and yet does—just long enough to say goodbye to something you were not prepared to lose. Caroline is a study in contradictions. Sweet but subversive. Athletic and clumsy. Intelligent yet absent-minded. She looks and struts like a lady but is prone to talking like a sailor just in from eight months at sea. The resulting juxtaposition is nothing short of transcendent. Her long natural blonde hair is implausibly curly—so much so that s...
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