“We are such stuff as dreams are made of.” Smith quipped. “The Tempest. Act four…”
“…Scene one. And it’s ‘on’ not ‘of’.” I retorted. “It continues. And our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Smith snorted. “Ever the pessimist. And yet.” He paused for effect. “I propose to travel forward in Time by one second.”

“Smith, you can’t. Except by the traditional route. Which just takes one second to do. Except we are moving in Space-Time. Not just Time. Only light can do that without feeling the time pass.”

Smith shrugged. I tried to explain. “The Earth spins 460m/s....

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Once upon a time there was a bug who wanted to live on my finger. I called the little fella over and asked him to stay a while. This all started when my father said to never touch a big because it might bite you. After he died, I decided to ask bugs to come over and sit for anhile. It made it easier to think about my sorrow. I named the different bugs, every single one of them. One bugs name was idiot. He sat there as I picked off a wing. The other wing was still there. It...

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I haven’t had any nightmares since my sister was locked up. Now I have it all because I killed him. But it was all a mistake.

The air around me turned into ice. My body felt as though it was weighted by meteorites. I lifted my throbbing head as my eyes trailed around my surroundings: a stone-cold room with fluorescent lights that smelled like sadness. I tried wiggling my hands, only being greeted by a rustle of platinum chains. This does not look like Washington. Where am I? Who would capture me? I did nothing wrong. Not since him.

“Diana...

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