🚨 BREAKING: OMB has just issued a memo *rescinding* the previous memo freezing all federal financial assistance programs.

Full text, per government source:

"Baby shark do-do-doo! Baby shark!"

"Mom! That's not even how it GOES. She's never going to get anywhere like this."

"Sweetheart, people grow at their own pace and sometimes that's slower than yours. That doesn't mean it's wrong."

"That's dumb."

"Yes, well, so's baby shark, but we persevere."

It's a steep price to pay. It's a steep hill to climb. It's a promise of toil, a commitment of time. Try as you may the price will not change, the hill will not lower, the time will not wane. Look all you please, lament to the trees, but when push comes to shove you must act.

Will the pleading voices move you? Can they shake the strength of your conviction?

Trees bloom and root and break rocks with the precision of long years. Water wears down stone, wears away earth, changes the world one drip at a time. And yet we live short and die fast and the years are not kind.

"What need the gods from us? How can we, so small, serve such greatness?" The words echoed in the stone room, sending disharmonies bouncing back. "We serve with our faith. With our worship. We nourish them!"

She shivered. Her knees ached against the cold floor. Was faith always suffering?

Just start.

Just do it.

Just stand up.

Just open the book.

Just reach for the next rung.

Just climb.

Why aren't you climbing?

"Not another one." Sylvester leaned back in his squeaky chair, hand over his eyes.

"Boss man says you gotta, but I can take it if you're too tired." His assistant pulled the packet of papers back.

Sylvester waved his hand. "No, no. I'll do it. Just heaven help me with these misspellings!"

Today and in the coming days, remember

Petals fell like rain staining the air with their perfume. It was cold for spring. It was warm for winter. Regardless, passersby wore jackets and scarves and their breath misted gently in the morning air.

It was cold. That was the first thing he remembered. Chill wind leaching the heat from his fingers, his face, his chest where a spreading patch of wetness froze against his skin.

Above him, icy tree branches outlined a patch of sky. Nothing moved. No sound but his labored breaths. It was beautiful

The room was bathed in cool blue light broken up by pools of shadow. Mounds and loops of wires crisscrossed the floor. In the center of it all, ensconced in his chair, Jordan snapped, "I need an update. Now."

Nobody answered. Only static crackle came over the line. Sweat broke over his forehead.

"Look! It has pockets!" they exclaimed, shoving their hands into the spell matter. Their flesh disappeared up to the wrist.

"Are you...supposed to do that?" Antimony asked.

They shrugged. "Eh. It's magic, what does 'supposed to' mean? We're rewriting the laws of the world here."

It was perhaps not proportionate. After all, he had only gently transgressed. Something worth, perhaps, a slap on the wrist. And yet here she stood with torch and pitch and wondered whether anyone would understand that it was never about just the one thing as the flames raged higher.

"I do not need to be rescued!" Her cry resounded through the silent room. "I do not need to be rescued," she repeated. "Leave me as I am, I beg of you."

He pressed his palm to the cold glass, watched the spread of condensation around his fingers. It would be long and long again before he'd have the chance to rest. He savored this quiet moment of connection to the simple world he was leaving. Death came with the dawn.