Dear Mr. Stevenson,

It's Jade, the annoying little philosophy student you had in junior year. I don't know if you remember me, but you're the only one I know who might understand what I'm feeling. Honestly, I'm in a crisis. I just finished my first semester, second year. I decided to major in magic. It was against the wishes of my parents, obviously. And like, 5 years ago it would have sent me to the psych ward to say something like that to a student councilor.

It was the most interesting thing...

Jerry decided to email his sister. He didn't really email things regularly. He didn't talk to people over email. It wasn't necessary. But today, his mother told him to be nice and send a thoughtful message. He was a slow typist, despite his job and had to look up at the screen every few keystrokes. He worked in cyber security for a local server warehouse. He had to leave for his afternoon shift soon, so he kept it short.

"Dear Sarah, I'm really happy for you. I hope you (don't take the bus)."...

I took my seat on the patio of my regular cafe. The chairs were a wicker-weaved metal frame bleached by continued exposure to the summer sun. The armrests rubbed down by the frequency of patrons. The table was a milky glass with a plastic flower set up in the middle. The flower never used to be white. It was bleached from its original yellow from years of sunlight. Nobody minded the white flower enough to get a new one. It was fine the way it was.

I looked over the edge of the patio into the...