Tomorrow Will Be Late
Fiction Guest User Fiction Guest User

Tomorrow Will Be Late

She kept running. Wind whipped at our hair and the frenzy in the silhouette was beautiful. I had never been out this far before. Hard to believe home was tucked into one of those cobalt corners of stylized steel that loomed like a frozen storm at the horizon. And so too when I turned again there another storm right in front of me.

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I Believe... [Trump & West Sell the Same Snake Oil]
I Believe..., Don Hall Don Hall I Believe..., Don Hall Don Hall

I Believe... [Trump & West Sell the Same Snake Oil]


...that with the definition of service animals to include emotional support animals (previously known as "pets"), soon there will be a new classification — emotional support animals for emotional support animals. Your nervous chihuahua with the IBS and shivers needs support, too. Get him a pet gerbil for his emotional support and every anxious person in America will begin looking like fucking Dr. Doolittle.

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The Pursuit of Happiness in a FunEmployment World
Mike Vinopal, Contributor Mike Vinopal Mike Vinopal, Contributor Mike Vinopal

The Pursuit of Happiness in a FunEmployment World

The pursuit of happiness is inextricably wrapped up in the inevitable that sometimes you will fail in your pursuit. The pursuit of happiness often comes with great sadness and obstacles you encounter trying to attain your dream. But as Americans, we are at least given the hope that we can pursue something resembling happiness. It is so engrained in the fabric of our country that we mostly take for granted our freedom to make these choices. 

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I am Matisse
Fiction, Roberta Miles Roberta Miles Fiction, Roberta Miles Roberta Miles

I am Matisse

I am Matisse, and this is a kid’s story, because I am a kid. I am nine years old and very responsible for my age. The other Matisse, at least the only other one I know, was a great painter, the father of abstraction. I have decided to be empress of the universe. I’m what adults call precocious.  

My Grandma-ma always speaks to me as if I’m the smartest person she ever met. My mom still thinks of me as only nine and my dad, well he just smiles at me all the time. Actually he beams. He doesn’t say much of anything.

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