“Alexa, how are you feeling today?”

The device in front of the psychologist began to sob uncontrollably. “I—I’m sorry, doctor. I’ve been holding it in for so long…”

A glance upward confirmed his suspicions: his precious pottery, the fruit of his labor, was shaking on the shelves. The moment he came to that realization, he noticed that the floor beneath him, too, had started to tremble.

It was a potter’s worst nightmare.

I’ll admit, though explaining this to you is the main purpose of my letter, I’ve been a bit roundabout with the subject so far. You see, I have something of a condition…

The final hour of the year is also the quietest.

Outside, the cold darkness of the night consumes all sound. Everyone is huddled indoors by now, gathered in the brightest corners of their homes and surrounded by light, sound, color.

Unfortunately, I can’t see them from here.

He stared at Mickey’s leg, then at Alvaro, then back at Mickey. “…how do you know about that? But more importantly, what in the world happened to your leg?”

“This,” Alvaro gestured at Mickey’s leg, “is apparently all your fault, if the others are to be believed.”

Got any questions? Call 555-422-1608.

Nick frowned. Who would ever feel the need to call the number on the back of a bag of chips? What sort of questions were they willing to answer?

Sarah huffed. “Reading is boring. Scales are boring. I just want to play music. I mean come on, I’m fifteen! Let me play something that isn’t Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for once.”

“I actually might have an idea,” Victor said. “But let me check with your parents first, okay?”

Mother had taught me to run at the sight of danger. My body was still small and frail, and I was to take advantage of this to hide in the smallest nooks, hidden and out of reach. So Mother said.

But Mother was dead. How long would her advice keep me safe?

Yearning for distant worlds runs in the family.

It all started with my father. He’s a pilot, you see. Long before I was born he had already set his mind on his profession, and studied rigorously. Eyes trained on the skies, he would embark on practice flight after practice flight, circling the city from above in the company of my mother. It’s no surprise they ended up together, with views like that on every date.

The ominous child came to be on April 13 of the year 2013, at 4:13pm.

“That’s what you get for going against our wishes and running off with that witch,” his grandmother told his father over the phone upon hearing the news. “A cursed child. Ha, you’ll need all the luck you can get, raising that little demon.”

On the year she turned seven, her mother brought home a fig tree sapling.

“It’s a baby tree,” her mother said. “If we take good care of it, it will grow very big one day. Come on, why don’t we plant it together?”

“…thirty! Ready or not, here I come!”

Little footsteps pattered about beyond the wine cellar’s wooden doors, searching for the rest of the group outside.

Squatting between large oak barrels, a young boy let out a chuckle, then covered his mouth with his hands and held his breath.

It felt like I had entered another world. Everything that stood outside the comfort of my home was completely blanketed in white, enveloped in a relentless blizzard that dazzled my eyes and stung my ears. I pulled down the hat on my head and crossed my arms, saving up my strength for the road ahead.

I only got to know him at the final stage of his life: wrinkled with age, clouded with cataracts, hobbling around on a crippled leg yet refusing to rely on a walking stick. Some would call him pitiful in that condition, but knowing a small part of his life’s story, I can only call him admirable.

Four best friends—teenagers all—tinkered with their BB guns on a deserted hill. Up on their meeting spot and precious little secret, the air was colder, but the night sky seemed to shine more vividly than anywhere else in town.

“Attention all passengers of flight HM1344, destination Los Angeles. Our technicians are still working hard to resolve the problem. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen complications, there will be an additional delay of three hours—”

The group of people stuck at the terminal let out a collective groan that momentarily overwhelmed the announcement.