To a human, the continental divide is an invisible and meaningless concept- an arbitrary line that exists solely in textbooks and computers, its creation one of many odes to mankind's need for labels, exactitude, barriers. All raindrops are born in cloud nurseries, the coalescing molecules of hydrogen and oxygen seeking each other out, reaching desperate limbs across the void, the urge to bond fueled by something more primal even than instinct- magnetism. As the particles twist a sensuous tango… Continue

Absolutes exist in nature- the amount of moisture that a parcel of air can hold before it becomes rain, the number of fawns that can be born to a deer population before they starve, the level of pressure that a rock can endure before it melts. These are finite concepts, the kind of precise truths that Rachel felt she could rely on. She gathered these facts and figures around herself and wove them into a tapestry beneath which she remained, like a child hiding inside a couch cushion fort, aware… Continue

Lately, she has felt god's absence. She can remember how she used to cry to him when she felt broken, so sure of his presence that the certainty alone would seem to heal all wounds. Now, in moments of despair, she can still feel the words rising to her lips, as instinctual and immidiate as tears. She knows she has no right to prayer. No beleifs, no cosmic loyalties, no hope of divine deliverance. She wants to talk to god, but, more than that, she needs to believe he listens.

Shannon stepped out into the night, hauling a trash bag that weighed half as much as she did, relishing the breathless cold almost in the same instant that she recoiled from it. No matter how long I live here, she thought, I'll never get used to this. Once warm, the body will drowse into forgetfulness, so that every time is like the first time, the penetrating chill that is more than the air you breathe. As soon as you inhale it becomes part of yourself- the sharp scent of…

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