Cover Story

Allison Marie Conway

The way his hand brushes mine and I accidentally feel the graze of his toughness against my softness. Caramel lattes and the taste of vanilla and orange swirl ice cream when we kiss. There are scattered leaves which break away from their branches and spin as they fall to their concrete graves.

As the ocean waves glisten and roll beneath the afternoon sun, I imagine swimming out past the rough choppy water and floating until my heart stops racing like those little seabirds which run just close enough to the water’s edge but never get their little tiny delicate bird feet wet.

I don’t know if there is a God or a being watching out for any of us from the great beyond but there are so many of us wild strange creatures here together it seems impossible there isn’t some kind of magic stirring in us somehow. Butterflies in…

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