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.”

It’s been three months since you died, but it could have been three days or three years. This time, this forever after, is something separate from our former life. Some people thought you a burden, but I was a volunteer, an eager one at that.

You are the best friend I will ever have.

The pulse of the city is becoming my own. I woke up with a thrumming headache this morning. The night and the dawn are a patchwork in my aching head. When I walk down the street, steam ripples off the pavement, as intangible as my disintegrating memories. How is my stranger? I wonder. The one from last night’s club. Gone now. He’s returned back to his own life after our brief collision: my drunken frame hung off his neck. His glassy brown gaze still holds me. Power lines cross my heart. My eyes swim in the summer sweat and rain.

From Guest Contributor Siri Harrison

A brave man killed a monster. He became a hero and was celebrated. He married a princess and eventually became a king. He had many children. Then he died.

A thoughtful man spent his entire life trying to make sense of it all. Then he died.

I’m at that point in my life where I need to wake up at least once in the middle of the night. Stumbling through the dark to the bathroom, the street lamp cast a shadow across the table, revealing a yellow envelope.

Dropping the note, I searched frantically throughout the house. Beverly had died exactly one year ago tonight.

Hank stared at his bloodied hands. Visions of a more peaceful time flashed through his mind, reminders of a life less troubled.

“I guess you’re not vegan anymore.”

As the clock ticked towards the ending of a year, Ted was fast asleep.

Ted decided he would start the next New Year differently, with his kitchen well stocked.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs