165 of 365

Walking down the main street left him feeling uneasy. How many eyes were on him? How many whispers were about him? He heard them all in a single roaring moment when the light turned green and he was forced to cross the street into view of the community park where the town had gathered in memoriam for their mayor. Heads turned toward him and he saw it in their eyes. They were remembering his mother and he was not welcome.

164 of 365

The house had lost its local prestige as it fell into disrepair. The offshore winds had weathered its memory and erased its value for most. But most was not all, and for her, its value was priceless. She was careful not to trip over the uprooted cobblestones buried under the unkempt landscape. She barely recognized the hydrangea that once lined the front porch. Pushing aside the overgrown bush, she finally spied the front door.

163 of 365

The woman ground the kernels on the flat stone and sprinkled the resulting flour into the bowl. Its contents thickened into a rancid brown paste, which the woman motioned for him to eat. He had dredged his soul for a miracle, and that miracle had brought him here. He had every reason to trust her. With his fingers, he shoveled the dreary slop into his mouth and swallowed. He was unconscious in less than a minute. Then the woman began.

162 of 365

The room smelled of disinfectant, and the man of old books and Mentholatum. Together, the mixture infused the air with an unbearable stench. But he could not escape himself, and therefore, could not escape the odor. He figured this smell was why she had stopped coming to visit, why they all had stopped coming to visit. This month would mark a full year that he had sat alone in his room without a visitor.

161 of 365

Leaning against the glass was a hand-painted sign as old as the building itself. The six letters on the sign had faded and begun to flake off, a condition which spoke volumes. They had driven by the building every weekday for the length of the summer, and each day, the sign had read "Closed." That is, until their last day on the island. Relieved by their air-conditioned car, a stark contrast to the hot August sun, they nearly forgot to look.

160 of 365

The man had been reprimanding her for the last ten minutes. She sat at her desk, twirling the cord to the headset, a complacent expression permanently affixed to her face. The man could do nothing to change the situation. It was a fact he knew well but he still chose to take his anger out on her, his lack of control seemingly increasing his rage. She had no means to change the situation either, which was a lack of authority that delighted her.

159 of 365

He knocked twice and then waited. His patience was wearing thin. His hand spun the door knob but the deadbolt kept him out. Only silence answered his demands to open the door. He walked around to the back of the house, peeking through the side windows on his way. The curtains had been pulled back. There was a steaming cup of something on the table beside the sofa. He found the backdoor locked as well. Only one option remained.

158 of 365

Adrenaline burst from every pore as the ambulance sped down the street. He silently willed an increase in speed, whether for the thrill or simply to get it all over with. The seat cushion became his anchor as his body fell victim to centrifugal force. Then the tires slowed and came to a stop with the accident in full view through the windshield. He froze, paralyzed by fear at the sight of the driver in the mangled car paralyzed by death.

157 of 365

For the past year, she had searched the streets in the early morning, an envelope of five dollar bills in her pocket. Today she was following a tip that a man matching her father's description had been sleeping in the brush near the overpass. She approached cautiously. The campsite was crude, a threadbare blanket spread on the dirt, a pile of clothes encrusted with dried mud shoved up against the concrete wall. Then the pile breathed.

156 of 365

He followed the planks as they wove through the tall grass. The edges of the boardwalk had curled with time, guiding his feet to the middle as a sagging mattress would do to one's tired body. He had walked this path frequently, always alone by choice. It startled him to see the figure waiting for him in the sand. As he drew near, the recognition hit him square in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and the words from his tongue.

155 of 365

She had been entrusted with this heirloom and set out to take great care of it, but the truth remained, no amount of dusting or polishing could hide the unavoidable wounds of time. When she found it buried, her efforts felt futile. It was barely discernible amid the debris. Though with its sturdy frame surviving the day, the wounds now shone with pride. They were no longer wounds of a wasted effort, but those of life and pure love.

154 of 365

He had walked the beach for upwards of an hour before happening upon the small cabin, though shack was a more appropriate title. It was in a dilapidated condition with a sinking roof, a front porch detached from the foundation, and a brick chimney in pieces on the ground. But nestled up against the ragged cliff, it was the only manmade structure as far as he could see north or south along the coast, and that was the epitome of perfection.

153 of 365

The room was silent. Her listeners were furrowing their brows, wrinkling their noses, preparing their disparate remarks. In that silent void, she heard a small sound resonating from the far back corner. It was applause. She saw heads turn and heard curious whispers. They had all missed the man's entrance and his approving nods during the lecture, but no one missed the ovation.

152 of 365

The beach was littered with folding chairs, unrolled towels, plastic shovels, sun shades, careless trash, and most of all, people. Too many people with too many things, all competing for the same few acres of space. They sat hip to hip, stood shoulder to shoulder, stepped on toes, and got possessive over their temporary plots of land, though the land belonged no more to them than it did to the town itself.

151 of 365

He could still see them sitting in the living room, his father on the couch, clean-shaven with his coffee cup in hand and his eyes glued to the morning news; his mother wrapped in a bathrobe sitting nearby in the armchair, devouring the paper, a stack of books on the side table, eager to take the newspaper's place. He heard the reporter speak of it first, and then his father's commentary. Yet his mother sat quietly contemplating them both.

150 of 365

From the earth, she learned forgiveness. The fire had swept the valley, stripped it of its dressing and simultaneously erased the childhood from the child. She existed because she had watched it unfold from high on the hill. The valley existed but in bare form, primed to grow anew. It will forgive its undoing as will she. She will rise with the trees and time will cover her wounds as clovers cover those of the earth that lay before her.

149 of 365

His car, with its belly exposed to the moonlight, was the first to disappear, though the brief moment it floated on its roof gave him hope he could save her. Then it sank as abruptly as what caused it to surge off the cliff in the first place. His possessions littered the rocks a hundred feet below, ejected from the car during its descent. Items he once needed to survive now fought for their own lives against the pounding surf.

148 of 365

The road wove through a canopy of aspens and led to the front stoop of a small white cottage. It was modest in appearance but boastful in its accomplishments. The moment he opened the door, he became part of its history. He would wash in the same basin, cook in the same kitchen, sleep in the same bed, and most importantly work at the same desk. His presence under that roof for the two weeks he had reserved would eventually define his career.

147 of 365

She was envious. He spoke of the countries he had visited, the hidden nooks of locality, the openness of the people. She wanted that life. He possessed little, few possessions, few dollars. When he felt the need, he simply packed his bag and was on his way, eager to stumble upon the next traveler's treasure. "I'm leaving again tomorrow," he said. "You should come with me."

146 of 365

She captured three red-tailed hawks in a single frame. Each atop a pole, linked by the power line, facing east toward the early morning sun, wings spread to dry the evening moisture from their feathers. She had seized the shot, thankful for having her camera slung over her shoulder at the time. But it was the sign she neglected, it was a failure that would infiltrate the next few days, a failure only hindsight would explain.

145 of 365

Following behind in a second car, she had seen the whole thing: a blind curve stealing the lives of her mother and three siblings. Her father, having been behind the wheel and the lone survivor of the crash, struggled with the guilt and subsequently disappeared from the world. She had grown up wanting to follow in his footsteps, eventually taking over the family business. Now all she wanted was to follow him off the face of the earth.

144 of 365

The day he stopped speaking was the day his life changed. Looking back, whether it was the silence that altered his life or simply the decision to be silent that made the difference, he did not know. It was a tiresome chicken versus egg scenario. Regardless of the origin, the evolution of his silent life had a profound effect on him and those that remained, sometimes unwillingly, by his side.

143 of 365

It began with an unprecedented anxiety. Then her temper slowly began to grow. An unrestrained irritability changed her from the inside out. She lost her sense of calm and her aptitude for kindness. And then came the anger, a very profound anger. One doctor offered psychotherapy. It was "just stress." Another suggested medication. "Your prefrontal cortex is misfiring." She tried both interventions, neither worked.

142 of 365

The glass sugar jar sat empty on the sill, placed there by her grandmother nearly fifty years ago. Now the sill and the jar were hers, an unsophisticated inheritance she gladly accepted. The first night alone after the funeral, she stood in the doorway to the cold kitchen, her eyes locked on the jar in the window. An hour passed, perhaps two. Then she opened a cupboard, retrieved a bag of sugar, and refilled the jar.

141 of 365

The rain had been torrential and constant for the past three days. By the end of the first day, it had saturated the front yard. On the second day, the water rose, flooding the grounds and threatening the cottage. On the third day, it pushed past the sandbags at the front door and ravaged the first floor. The truck was useless, its engine under water with most everything else. The only way out now was by boat.

140 of 365

He still needed a chair. He had a mattress on the floor and a table in the corner, but he needed something to sit on. He searched the dumpster behind his building but came up empty. He moved on to the next building, and the next as well. Before he knew it, he had walked across the city. This he was used to, walking that is, and he could sleep on a bench or the step of an old tenement if needed. He had done so before and he would do so again without issue.

139 of 365

He sat patiently in his seat, his tires hugging the curb, his bumper kissing the next cab in line. He watched the mob shuffle toward the baggage carousels, pause to retrieve their belongings, and then emerge in a daze. His rear door swung open. A woman in a neatly-tucked blouse and pencil skirt slipped into his back seat and announced her destination. She had failed to recognize him, the first of many thankful failures for the day.

138 of 365

The man motioned to the clerk and then pressed his index finger to the glass. The clerk retrieved the necklace directly below the man's finger and held it up for examination. The simple chain was of great contrast to the pendant: a large roughly-cut indigo stone encased in a carved silver perimeter. No money was exchanged. The clerk willingly relinquished the necklace to the man who placed it in his pocket and happily left the store.

137 of 365

The closet was full of shoe boxes, each stuffed with handwritten slips of paper, sticky notes, paper napkins, and postcards. She had found these forgotten treasures in the pages of returned books before scanning them back into the library's inventory. She would trace the printed letters with her finger, and images of strangers would flood her mind. These images gave her a secret purpose by which she lived her life.

136 of 365

Today was her first day as a grown up. The change was abrupt and unsolicited. Yesterday, she was a child. She felt innocent and secure. She was prone to daydreams and unrealistic optimism. Today, she was responsible for everything. Doubtful and scared, her knees began to buckle, the sockets of her eyes burning with the threat of tears. At twelve years old, she was unprepared. No one her age would be prepared for this.

135 of 365

They had been given an address of 395, but overgrown landscapes hid the few remaining house numbers. They were told the house had old timbers against the front fence, but in this neighborhood, every house was lined with piles of recycled construction materials. No residence was discernible from another. Without a doubt, they were lost. They had been told not to get out of the car, but there was no other solution.

134 of 365

He kissed her on both cheeks and then climbed into the taxi. She needed him to look at her one more time, but the car pulled away, his eyes locked on the driver and the road ahead, never once shifting to glance back at her. She should have just said it, before he had closed the door, before he had kissed her, before he had invited her out that evening. She thought she would get another chance.

133 of 365

Her mother had tried to conceal it, turning her head away, soaking up her tears with her sleeve before they spilled down her cheeks. She stared at her mother, waiting for her to turn back around, to face her, to console her, but she never did. With her eyes on the floor, she reached out for her daughter to take her hand, and they walked together, side by side in silence, back down the hallway and out the door.

132 of 365

He remembered Christmas at the beginning, the waking up early, long before the sun rose, and running to the living room where the tree stood in grandeur. He would lay beneath the branches, staring up at the lights, the trimmings festive and alive. He enjoyed this private moment, before anyone else in the house awoke, it fueled him for the day. Things were different now. This Christmas, the tree was missing, as was everyone else.

131 of 365

She sat in the cool shade of the pier, her toes sifting through the sand. The ocean rushed toward her. It crashed against the pilings and flooded the beach. She shifted nervously as the water came closer, her hands braced against the ground, her legs ready to run. The wave stopped just short of her toes, smoothing away the footprints she had left. She had come to face her fear, to face her past, and in doing so, she faced her future.

130 of 365

The boy watched the town disappear before his eyes. He did not want to leave, but his father had decided otherwise. The boy sat near the back of the bus without a choice, the finality of his father's voice still ringing in his ears. He had kicked and screamed, but it was useless. He was a child, forced to oblige the whim of his parent, picked up by the armpits and sent away without even the slightest consideration.

129 of 365

She felt hunger in the deepest corners of her stomach. It overpowered her will and made her fixate on the need. She peeled thick splinters from the wall and cradled them between her teeth like toothpicks. When that failed, she chewed on her fingernails and gnawed at the base of her palm, not enough to break the skin, just enough to ease the craving.

128 of 365

The pain had returned, but he kept this fact to himself. He didn't want to cause alarm, and the presence of pain would cause a full-fledged panic. Four years ago, it would have been different. Something this life threatening could be brought to the attention of his personal physician and promptly treated. But that was no longer a possibility.

127 of 365

She noticed it teetering inside the truck bed as the highway curved around the hill. The tailgate was down and it was only a matter of time. She paced herself, making sure she was a safe distance behind so as not to run it over. When it toppled onto the road, it bounced twice and came to rest conveniently on the shoulder. She slowed, eyes on the truck ahead, watching for brake lights. The truck disappeared. This was good news.

126 of 365

He stood on stage, shaking his head at the man in a poorly chosen orange suit. Despite his skepticism, he obeyed when the man asked him to close his eyes and listen as he counted down from ten to one. He heard these numbers, nine, eight, seven, and felt himself relax. Four, three, two, one...and then nothing. He had no memory after this. Nothing until he was back in his seat, dressed in the man's orange suit.

125 of 365

She sat down on the bench in front of her office, nursing her coffee to avoid burning her tongue, and watched the morning rush of business suits pass by. The women in sneakers with high heels stuffed in purses. The men with briefcases and cell phones surgically affixed to their ears. They pushed and bumped into each other, rarely offering apologies, all with a destination that took precedence.

124 of 365

He opened the drawer and moved his fingers through the alphabetical tabs. At the back of the drawer was a red folder with a photograph paperclipped to the top right corner. The round brown eyes and high cheekbones were unmistakable. On the back of the photograph was the date that confirmed it. He slipped the photograph into his coat pocket, replaced the folder in the drawer, and snuck back out of the office.

123 of 365

She stared primarily at the podium, her hatred of public speaking growing by the second. The pounding in her chest had a dizzying effect, and all the layers she had worn to conceal the inevitable sweat marks were making her sweat more. She had often recounted the many reasons against this recent career change, but on that day, when she glanced up to take stock of her audience, she was grateful to be doing what she did.

122 of 365

She and her brother found themselves often alone. They were separated by four years of age, but never took much notice of the difference. They lived an hour from town, a trip their parents made daily and did not return from until after bedtime. And with no nearby neighbors, they were left to provide for themselves. They had six years together like this, all of which neither one would trade for a seventh.

121 of 365

The door shut. He lay back down on the couch and let the ceiling fan dry the sweat from his forehead. He tried to let his mind wander but it refused to go very far. He was getting a clean slate, a fresh start, a chance to do everything over again. He was getting what he had always wanted, but there was one problem. He had no clue what it was he wanted, nor where to start looking for it.

120 of 365

Cross-legged near the fire, they sat waiting for the man to speak. The young ones fidgeted anxiously with the cuffs of their pants or poked at the dirt with sticks. The older ones stared at the flames, the sky, each other, anywhere but the man himself. The man's eyes moved from body to awkward body, one by one, before landing on a young girl in a red sweater. He handed the book and his flashlight to the girl, and asked her to read the first page.

119 of 365

She could be anyone. She could be the woman sitting next to him on the plane, on the subway, on the bus. She could be his boss, or his mail carrier, or the hostess at his favorite restaurant. She could live halfway around the world, or in the apartment below his and he would never know. He was comfortable with this. He lived a life of anonymity, and this was no different.

118 of 365

The sign clearly stated no parking. Yes, he saw the sign, and yes, he chose to ignore it. He would only need a few minutes anyhow. He parked the sedan with its front bumper nearly touching the sign post. He walked inside the building and kindly asked the receptionist to care for the package. When he emerged from the building, he found a ticket on his windshield. With no care, he crumpled up the yellow citation, and tossed it into the gutter.

117 of 365

She was alone on the road that stretched for miles. It disappeared south into the mountains on the horizon and north into the horizon itself. She had left her car a mile back, but could still see the sun bouncing off its windshield. She knew it was not the best idea to walk, but she was never one to have the best ideas, and so she had set off on foot, a bottle of water in one hand and her high heels dangling from the other.

116 of 365

She never knew what caused a person to want to end it all. She never knew the despair that took root in someone that would create such a solitary solution. She criticized those people that would allow such thoughts to drive them toward such a selfish choice. But in the man's mind, she was the cause of that despair, those thoughts, and that choice. It was in his mind, in the midst of those thoughts, that he had ended it all for her instead.

115 of 365

In a race against the flame, she finished the letter, scribbling toward the end for the sake of completion rather than readability. The candle was burning through its wick faster than she had hoped. She searched the cabinet by touch, finding an extra book of matches but no other candles. The single flame was now the only source of light left in the house. She would make do. Contrary to the obvious, she was pleased with this predicament.

114 of 365

After placing the explosives, he surveyed the floors one final time. He found nothing of concern but a stray pigeon on the second floor pecking at the concrete wall. His demand to vacate echoed across the room. The pigeon undeterred, kept pecking. The man approached the bird and swept his hands through the air. In a flutter of feathers, the pigeon escaped out an open window frame. Then the man heard the first blasting cap explode.

113 of 365

He drank the last few drops and set the bottle on the curb. He had been there with the cardboard sign propped against his shins for the greater part of the afternoon. Each driver that passed he stared down, but the vast majority avoided eye contact. They changed radio stations and searched glove compartments for nothing in particular, pardoned only by a green light. By nightfall, he had abandoned the empty bottle, and walked on.

112 of 365

He had sat on the same park bench each day for the last eight years. He would arrive before the morning rush, stay through lunch, and leave once the sun set. He would sit through any weather, nibbling on a small sandwich, and occasionally nodding toward a passing dog who had come to sniff his feet. Otherwise, he remained quiet in his seat. On the anniversary, he thought little of the woman who had sat down beside him. Then she spoke.

111 of 365

The first pair of hands left the business card on a table at the library. The fourth pair left it propped against a cash register, and the seventh pair pinned it to a bulletin board. The tenth pair mailed it across the country to the eleventh pair, which tossed it toward a garbage can on the street corner. The card landed beside the can to be picked up by pair number twelve, which was the first pair of hands to call the number printed on the back.

110 of 365

She was standing behind him at the kiosk, both needing permits to park. His clothes were disheveled and he was shaking. Short on cash, he looked at her with desperate eyes, so she bought his permit with her own. He took the stub of paper, and ran away without saying a word. Hours later, she returned to her car and found an envelope tucked beneath the wiper. Inside she found a hundred dollar bill. Written in the corner was simply "thank you."

109 of 365

Even from a distance, she recognized him. Not by his face, but by the faded green oxford that hung loosely from his shoulders. That same oxford had gone missing from her husband's closet over a month ago. The man was at the opposite end of the hallway, pacing back and forth with his cell phone to his ear. He was arguing with the caller. In seconds, the dispute had ended and resulted in the man's foot denting the side of a nearby trash bin.

108 of 365

Her voice sounded kind, so he stayed on the line. He listened as she spoke of a new credit card offer, and humored her with questions about rates and fees, finding great comfort in how she articulated the answers. She asked eagerly if he would like to apply, but he declined. Sensing her disappointment, he quickly agreed to hear about the latest identity theft protection. Anything to keep her talking, keep her from hanging up the phone.

107 of 365

He began at the sink. He emptied the basin, neatly stacking the dirty dishes on the counter, and then filled it with soapy water. An hour later, he had finished. His back was sore and his fingers were pruned, but he felt a sense of accomplishment that was worth the effort. Washing dishes at the sink was a simple chore, one he had taken for granted only months earlier. Now he could not think of anything more rewarding.

106 of 365

Her living room was full of customers sitting snugly around bistro tables and chatting eagerly with their neighbors. They were all there for the same reason. Once the magazine has profiled her recipe, she had trouble turning them away. Moments before, she had plucked the new supple leaves from the top of the tea bushes in her garden. A pure fresh leaf, that was her only secret. But in fact, it was no secret at all, so why her?

105 of 365

He read the sign on the door apologizing for the early closure. He knocked on the window, his fist falling heavily and getting the attention of the young girl wiping the counter. She mouthed the word closed and went back to her cleaning. His fist found the window again, this time pounding with intent, harder and harder on the glass, alarming the girl. She retreated to the back room, her steps in sync with his fist. Then the glass cracked.

104 of 365

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the matchbook on the dresser. She imagined herself carefully tearing the cardboard of the center match. She would drag it across the rough strip on the back of the book and watch the flame dance as it engulfed the sulfur head and consumed the stick. At the last second, before it singed her fingers, she would place the burning match on top of the book, which still sat on the dresser, and leave the room.

103 of 365

The knot slipped loose and the ribbon fell from her wrist. The balloon floated away, horizontally at first, blown by the breeze down the sidewalk. It bobbed and twirled, shopping the bakery window for indulgent fudge and admiring the schiffli lace gown that called though the glass of the corner boutique. And then it rose, dancing high in the sky to the footsteps of the pursuing mother and to the cries of the child who once possessed it.

102 of 365

He felt a tug on the line and the tip of the rod bent slightly toward the river. He was skeptical, it had been over a month since he had felt a bite, and his imagination had deceived him before. But sure enough, the rod dipped again. He pulled it back, spun the reel a few times, and then pulled back again. He was gentle and methodical, the fish was a luxury he could not afford to lose. This fish was giving its life for their own, and he was grateful.

101 of 365

The cabin drew tenants on a consistent basis. A body or two looking for adventure, recouping from each day beneath thin cotton sheets, feeling protected by a locked door and mosquito netting. Yet the jungle was beginning to wage war on the small structure. The perimeter was no longer passable without a machete. Nature was engaged in a slow and steady battle to reclaim what was hers. It was a battle she would win with certainty and ease.

100 of 365

A count of three. With the right amount of electricity, in those three seconds, the heart would stop. A count of three. Life could end in a count of three. It was imperative that his calculations were accurate. He poured endlessly over his notes, memorizing, reworking. He checked and rechecked his instruments, running tests, ensuring reliability. One misstep and he would fail. He could not fail. He refused to accept another failure.

99 of 365

He was the one that would steal a parking space from those who had waited patiently; he was the one who never tipped the hard-working waitress, or held a door for the person behind him. She should have ignored him. She should have walked away. But each weekday, as they walked the distance from their shared apartment building to their shared office building, her fixation grew. Walking together made her weaker to the idea of walking away.

98 of 365

She was glued to the screen. She had watched his black and white image cross the street and come into focus directly below the camera. His face looked tired, but little else had changed. He pushed a button on the wall, and her buzzer rang from inside the apartment. When she did not answer, he pushed the button a second time, and again her buzzer rang. Then he glanced at the camera and smiled. She knew he knew she was watching.

97 of 365

She slammed the refrigerator door when she realized she had forgotten the milk. "I have to go back to the store," she yelled, sending the words flying across the house with hope they would land on the right ears. A moment passed and then a matter-of-fact "fine" came hurling back toward her. She grabbed her purse and a ten dollar bill from the desk drawer. Below the money was a note. Because of this note, she would never again forget the milk.

96 of 365

She sprinted through the endless woods, splintering twigs, stirring up leaves. She kept running, searching for a clearing that would not come. She heard the engine just over the hill, the small voids between the trees full of its sound. But when she reached the summit, the rumble was just as distant as it had been before. Her body begged her to stop, but if she stopped, they would leave her. They needed her, but she needed them more.

95 of 365

He sat behind the desk, forcefully wiping the coffee stain with a wet paper towel. He tried leaning slightly to the left so his tie would swing from the knot and hover over the proof of his clumsy nature. Sadly, this did little to hide the spot that had now bled to an obscene size. No matter his effort, the stain endured, front and center on the white fabric, knocking him down in rank and locking him in the office for the rest of the evening.

94 of 365

Their routine was the same each night. She would wait beside him in bed, he asleep, she often reading or watching late-night infomercials, until it happened. Once a night, when his breathing would stop, she was to count the seconds. If she reached ninety, she would call for an ambulance. This she had done only once, and yet he gasped for air while she was talking to the 911 dispatcher. Tonight's episode was different.

93 of 365

She spent her youth living in the midst of emotional rubble. She often lost her way among the piles of unwashed clothing and lost her lunch at the foul smell of month-old leftovers. She learned quickly how to tiptoe through the shards of broken dishes without suffering from a skewered foot, and how not to leave the front door open too long for the wind would swirl in the house, turning the many loose papers into a treacherous maelstrom.

92 of 365

She woke with a start at the sound of the siren. She had received the flyer a month ago and was expecting this test. It was a standard procedure she had grown accustomed to living near a nuclear power plant. Although today, something felt wrong. She went to her desk and ruffled through a stack of papers until she found the flyer. The test was not scheduled until noon that day. It was 6:52 a.m. Then she felt the ground shake.

91 of 365

The water roared in distaste for what was in its path. It came quickly, too quickly to outrun and too quickly to outwit. Some tried to swim, but their fragile bodies were no match for the jutting debris. The wave shattered the sliding glass door of her living room and swept her down the hallway. She tried to grab the banister, but the dominant current slammed her into the back wall instead. She stopped fighting. Then the current reversed.

90 of 365

His lungs stung with each inhalation. His chest constricted, refusing to take the air that caused the pain, though this refusal intensified the attack. He stopped running and stood on the side of the road doubled over, his legs nearly buckling beneath him. She came to put a hand on his shoulder, murmured something about turning around. He waved her off. He could keep going. He had to keep going.

89 of 365

Outside the tent, the air was fresh and crisp, tumbled and laundered by the nearby ocean. Inside the tent, the scent of her shampoo still lingered. Gradually though, the mesh window filtered the pungent seaweed and fish and salt from the breeze. The scents intermingled, and soon the ocean had washed away the shampoo. She would smell the sea for the rest of her trip. She could not say the same of the shampoo.

88 of 365

"Come with me. I want to show you something." She had never been on campus so late at night and found it difficult to navigate. The path was poorly lit and each darkened building they passed was indistinguishable from the previous one. They were walking in circles, she was sure of it. When she slowed, unable to see where to step next, he took her hand. She needed to feel safe and he sensed that.

87 of 365

As she nervously spun the earring between her thumb and index finger, the back of the stud fell to the floor. She heard the small piece of platinum bounce twice on the wood and then vanish. She dropped to her knees in a frantic search. She was so focused on finding the missing part that she failed to hear the door chime open. It was not until his freshly polished shoes appeared beneath her nose that she noticed he had arrived.

86 of 365

In front of her on the coffee table sat the small wooden box. She tried to lift the lid, but the rusty hinges resisted. It took a screwdriver retrieved from the kitchen drawer to pry it open and reveal the watch. She twisted the knob on the side of the gold face, and lifted it to her ear. The gears did not spin, the hands stayed quiet and frozen at a time alluded to only by the words stamped on the underside of the watch's leather band.

85 of 365

The frigid air took root in him, maliciously infiltrating his blood and immobilizing his joints. Sharp electric pains emanated from every appendage, his circulation retreating to his core. And then a breach in the circuit as whole body parts went numb. He lay still in his seat, his eyelids too heavy to lift, weighed down by ice that had formed on his lashes, an ice that mirrored the crystals forming on the inside of the windshield.

84 of 365

He sped through traffic, weaving between cars, changing to whatever lane looked to be moving the fastest. He could not believe he lost the letter. He had set it on the table to retrieve his keys from his coat pocket, and in that split second, forgot it there. He yelled angrily at the road ahead, he yelled angrily at himself. A sea of brake lights glowed in front of him. He dialed her cell phone again. Still no answer.

83 of 365

She had to turn the key three times before the engine turned over. Overnight, a thick layer of moisture had compiled on the side mirrors and each window. Her wipers cleared the windshield, but she was blind in the other directions. She thought she could back out of the driveway without issue. She would put the car in reverse, keep the steering wheel straight, and slowly roll into the street, just as she had done a thousand times before.

82 of 365

He was a quick learner, never making the same mistake twice. Although, despite his greatest efforts, his list of mistakes kept growing. If only they would tell him the rules so he would know what to do. But that was how this whole thing worked. That was how they maintained power. Yesterday's ambush had left his inventory depleted too early. He dreaded paying the price of that mistake again.

81 of 365

She had spent the night curled in a fetal position on two armless chairs married together to create some semblance of a sofa. A nurse had brought her a blanket, though it did little to keep out the cold of the room and of the situation. Still, as morning approached, she had heard nothing. She sat up and a sharp pain shot through her shoulder. Only then did she notice the other woman, sleeping awkwardly in a chair on the opposite side of the room.

80 of 365

The man in the thinly rimmed glasses was pacing the sidewalk in front of the cafe. He was waiting, he was strategizing, he was watching from the corner of his eye the woman sitting near the front window. When he noticed her packing her things, he stopped, and stared at her through the glass. She struggled to stuff a thick manila envelope into her bag. She caught him staring and consequently hurried toward the back door.

79 of 365

She refused to spend the money. The cash in her hands burned her palms, the padded account balance churned her stomach. Using it felt like a justification, but there would never be any justification. She had already lost too much sleep, she had moved to a new town, she had even changed her name. But the money always followed. She needed to rid herself of its burden. She would be better off. They would all be better off.

78 of 365

The excessive fabrics spilled over her limbs, concealing any form or lack of form she may have. She guided the fragile-looking man into the small room, directing him to the sofa. His white hair stood up from his scalp and blended in with the long grasses of the framed prints hanging low on the wall behind him. The prints, a triptych of spring meadows, existed as an attempt to calm, but all too often that attempt failed.

77 of 365

She had tossed the take-out container but the car still rank of wilted cilantro, browning guacamole, and burnt beans. She picked up crumpled napkins and torn wrappers, and then relied on the vacuum to remove the remaining layer of dirt from the floor mats. When she stuck the tip of the hose beneath the passenger seat, she heard the suction cease. Blocking the air was an unopened envelope. Her eyes widened when she saw the return address.

76 of 365

The sun was burning a hole in his back. He felt the fibers of his shirt shriveling away in a singed submission. His skin wore a layer of moisture beneath his clothes, and beads of sweat kept dripping from the tip of his nose onto the excavation site. The weather was the one part of his job that he despised. There was either too much sun, too much wind, too much rain, or too much snow. Today was the sun’s turn to make his job difficult.

75 of 365

The radio had played static for the last thirty miles, but at this point, any noise was better than no noise. Ever so often the lines on the road would blur. He would briefly squeeze his eyes together as tightly as possible and then slap himself across the cheek. This bought him another five or so minutes. He could not afford another late delivery. Then the engine sputtered and one of his tires exploded in a deafening blow beneath his seat.

74 of 365

She watched each minute of the first hour tick away slowly and painfully. The second hour she spent doing lunges across her long narrow apartment. During the third hour, she thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected every surface, from floors to counters to walls. The fourth hour gave way to new furniture arrangements and four bags of clothes to donate from a freshly organized closet. It was now the fifth hour and she still could not sleep.

73 of 365

The dryer was hypnotic. She looked forward to that twenty-seven minutes, her mind locked in by the cycle, but free from everything else. The bell on the front door broke her trance. A man, weathered and deep in conversation with no one, walked to the far end of the laundromat. He undressed down to a worn t-shirt and boxer shorts, and stuffed his heavy layers into a washer for their monthly rinse.

72 of 365

Every doctor she had consulted wrote it off as chronophobia and prescribed pills for the anxiety. She had found the man’s address online. It took three rings of the doorbell before he opened the door.
"It's moving too fast," she said as she stumbled inside.
"What’s moving too fast?" the man asked.
"Time." She felt the room spin. "I need you to make it stop."
"What? Time?"
"Yes, time. Make it stop."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Ok."

71 of 365

He was uncomfortable. Someone had turned on the air conditioning. Cold air penetrated the thin blanket that concealed him, and he could feel each hair follicle on his legs painfully standing on end. A nurse was in the hallway updating his doctor. She kept using the word unresponsive. He tried to get their attention. He screamed, but his lips never parted. He kicked erratically, but his legs remained dead weights on the mattress.

70 of 365

He could not believe he was sitting on the front step waiting for a cab. Enraged, he used the closest flower pot as a convenient projectile. It shattered against the fence, the pickets sifting shards from soil. He caught a flash of yellow rounding the corner. He met the cab on the street. He had no desire to linger. "Airport," he said to the driver. "Do you have bags, Sir?" the driver asked. "No," he replied. "Just drive."

69 of 365

Yesterday, the cashier asked about his scar. He was elated to share the story of the collapsed scaffolding. "It was a year ago. I'm sure you heard of it. I was on the local news!" The cashier shook her head. The day before, he told the waitress at the cafe of his valiant effort to fend off a rabid dog. He has told stories of muggers, grenades, chainsaws, and even a crocodile. He has told every story he could think of, every story but the truth.

68 of 365

On his first day, a box containing a stapler, two pens, and a cactus was waiting for him in his cubicle. A small note taped to the cactus pot said, "Smile, you won't be here forever." Hopeful, he had placed the cactus on the desk and the supplies in the drawer. Ten years later, the supplies still sit in his drawer, and the cactus still sits on his desk, only he had scratched out the word Smile and replaced won't with will.

67 of 365

In the evenings, she would sit in the worn wingback chair by the window, an unfinished quilt on her lap, needle and thread in her hand. With her husband at sea for weeks on end, she would stitch to pass the time. The needle pierced the fabric as his boat did the waves. Over and under, around and safely through. He would return when the quilt was complete. He always had before and she refused to think otherwise.

66 of 365

She had pretended to faint. They had placed her face up on a gurney and were rolling her down the corridor. With her eyes closed, her lids glowed under each passing light. Seconds passed in darkness and then the glow appeared again. She kept track of this light, counting fourteen illuminations. Then her lids glowed green. This was the exit sign. This knowledge was priceless.