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Worlds of Steel by Andrew Culver

DOWN PAST the towering worlds of steel, across the lighted squares and into the vast network of desks, cubes and inner sanctums populated by the suits and the skirts and the busy bodies.
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Free to Think, Free to Be: A Story With a Subtitle by W. E. Fatherley

Dawn broke to a peculiarly warm day — the valley, which typically remains frosted hours after sunrise, filled with rising dew; apparitions as it were. Streets stitching themselves along the bottom of the valley lay quiet and unused. The high-rise dormitory along route eight’s wayside stood generic in early day sunlight, with all but one window shade pulled neatly down. Seventh floor, room three  orange rays showing through a double pane window brought light to silhouettes of a desk, bureau, and an uneasy bed.

Sailon by Melanie Toomey

When I was seventeen a girl named Sailon gave me a hat she had stolen from a department store.

“I have something for you,” she said. We lay fully clothed on the bed of one of our friend’s parents. The room was all shadow and greys.

“Why? You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

Mumbles by Irving A. Greenfield

This isn’t my story. It’s Mumbles’ story, or more accurately it’s about Mumbles and was told to me by James Tubac, another student of mine. Both boys were in my freshman English class at Fort Washington High School, in the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn. Mumbles’ real name was Michael Driscoll. Because he mumbled when he spoke, which was seldom, he garnered the nickname Mumbles long before he came to my class. When he spoke it was often incoherent, but no one in the otherwise rowdy class ever made fun of him.

Down, Across, and Over by Jeremy Glass

Fulton Miller sends me death stares whenever I look in his direction. To be fair, I slept with his wife. Coincidentally, she died the next day. In fact, all of the following events are, of course, coincidental, but unfortunate none the less. I finished my homework, sipped my milkshake, and got out of the restaurant.