“Why do I have to learn piano if in five years all music’s going to be made by AI anyway?”

“But my biology teacher says humans are machines too.”

Apprehension accompanied me to my car. How would they react? With sadness? Indifference?
I placed the bouquet lovingly into the trunk, holding back tears.

I set the vase onto my desk in the classroom, for my art students to observe, interpret and present their creativity onto canvas—of a life stilled.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Brad felt like his entire life had lead to this moment. The weeks of relentless training. The years of cutthroat business success that made the expedition possible. The lifetime of dedication and sacrifice that helped sharpen his discipline to the point where absolutely nothing could ever stand in the way of accomplishing his goals. Not his family, not his peers, not any of the many unimportant distractions fate might place on his path.

“It’s all downhill from here, sir.”

Life is all about the timing.

Just as I was saying hello, he was saying goodbye.

When Maxwell slept, he always dreamed of chocolate. According to his psychoanalyst, this was a long repressed association he had with the candies his mother gave him as a child. His medical doctor insisted it was a result of his chocolate allergy (technically three different allergies to milk, nuts, and soy, but who’s keeping track). His wife believed it was a sign he should get her a Valentine’s Day gift (collateral damage be damned).

In other words, death by chocolate.

Ray slipped at the top of his building’s stoop and flew face first at the cement below. Time elongated as a supercut of his entire life played out like a scene on a museum urn.

That was really the only memory that came to mind. Ray was only four years old.

There’s a responsibility implicit in every act. By choosing to engage in life, we accept that our choices will have consequences, even when we consciously deny them. We are of the world and we are defined by the actions we take as surely as by those we don’t.

So yes, Mother, I broke the dish, but is it really my fault?

Linda hated the way Roger drew so much attention. If he wasn’t bantering with a server or making bad jokes to a cashier, he was serenading her on the subway at the top of his lungs.

That was six months ago.

Megan watched Max watch TV. This went on for days. Max was too sad to do anything else. He’d stopped going to work. He wasn’t seeing any friends. He even refused to answer the door. He just binged whatever old sitcom Netflix recommended next.

But Megan was stubborn too. She’d keep haunting Max as long as it took to get him off the sofa and out of their house. She may be dead, but Max had a life still to lead.

Brandon is so excited he can barely speak. “So Pain Cake climbs onto the top rope when the ref isn’t looking and drops onto Big Beef with his patented Jagged Edge.”

“This is literally the greatest thing that’s happened in my entire life and you don’t even care.”