Marcus walked out of the coffee shop into the cold morning and was immediately slapped in the face with an icy wind.  His phone was wedged between his shoulder and ear as he rounded the corner of Maple and 3rd, where he was explaining to his coworker why he was, once again, not at fault for their project being late.

What's your favorite cartoon? Weighed. Arms feel like they are moving through water. Outside is dreary. Nothing more than grey clouds on a grey sky, casting dark shadows across my bed. My bed. Safe. Comfortable. Consuming. To break up the constant hum of nothing threatening to swallow me whole, I choose an old favorite cartoon movie to lift my spirits, The Adventures of Scamper the Penguin.

Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays? Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. I’ve always wondered how older people could hear you before they saw you. Not in the sense that they heard your thumping footsteps on old hardwood floors. I mean, you could randomly go to your grandmother’s house, no call, or text, just a random pop-up.

Find peace in simplicity and rediscover the joy of life's small pleasures, all while embracing the wisdom of being present.

Lost in the hustle? We all feel it. But what if we could reclaim our time to communicate meaningfully, free from the rush of modern life?

Imani was falling, of that she was sure, but she also felt like she was floating. She wasn't sure if one could fall and float but she decided to table that thought for now. The white world shattered into millions of shards around her, reforming into a vast hollow space—dark, humming, alive. She landed softly and looked around her. Threads of light snaked through the air like neural pathways.

Imani woke to white.Not just light, but a blank space stretching in every direction. The hum she had felt lately was all around her now. She pushed herself up. Her hands passed through the “ground,” rippling it like disturbed water. Panic shot through her chest. “Hello, Imani.” The Director’s voice came from behind her, calm as always. Imani turned. The silver-haired woman walked toward her with grace and a staunch poise.

Previously on ProtocolImani’s reality has been unraveling one glitch at a time. What started as a harmless Sunday brunch with her girlfriends turned into something nightmarish: time freezing, people repeating themselves, and a mysterious woman called the Director appearing to reset her like a machine. Each time the world “resumes,” Imani wakes up in familiar places, but things are never quite the same.

I recently learned through Facebook that I was not the only one who as a kid imagined the raindrops on their window raced each other, and got sad when their favorite raindrop lost. I was already a weird kid who waved at buildings and apologized to my stuffed animals if I dropped them, so I never thought to tell anyone about this weird quirk.