Lorn chased eclipses. This life, of getting up to travel, of hoping the eclipse's totality was reachable, was frustrating. She wanted to stop the chase, but at least for now, continued.

He was asked to come to the temple to record their beliefs, to ensure their truth would be remembered and shared.

Plants grow from between the tiles. Their little stalks have broken through the grouting and sprouted, looking like a rainforest of moss and tree in miniature.

Occasionally, when walking through the passages, one of the doors she would try might be locked. The next, though — that would open.

Night. Quiet roads. Rain. Street lights reflect in puddles. A small food store remains open and mostly empty.

When she was 13, her parents walked her out of the valley and into the forested hills. The monastery that stood there was already old.

Your last day before retirement is a relief. Work friends have organised evening drinks at a bar down the road from the office.

Red. The colour of blood. The colour of an open wound, of pain.

You sit at your desk. It’s been four hours since you’ve arrived at work. When you have to, you answer emails. Otherwise you sit at your desk.

It was early spring and the flyer recommended starting with potatoes — they were easy to care for and difficult to hurt.