Paths

by David Lynch

I think fate plays a huge role in our lives because there's no explaining why certain things happen. How come you meet certain people and fall in love with them and you don't meet all those other people? You come in with so much of who you are, and although parents and friends can influence you a little, you're basically who you are from the start. My children are all really different and they're their own people and they came into the world with their little personalities. You get to know them really well and you love them, but you don't have that much to do with the path they're going to travel in life. Some things are set.

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David Lynch (1946-2025) advanced to the front ranks of international cinema in 1977 with the release of his first film, Eraserhead. His six sentences are excerpted from Room to Dream.

Old and Young Animals

by Nick Matsas

The deer stand against a pink-and-blue sky that staccatos between the clouds like water in rice fields, atop a dark green hill that retains its color regardless of the sun. Another inch forward, and a twig snaps. The doe is gone. They are prey and never forget it. A fawn looks for its mother. A fawn is seen through a viewfinder.

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Nick Matsas is a published author and plumber. His work can be found in 3elemental Review, Beyond Words Magazine, and Aquarium Drunkard. His plumbing can be found in hospitals, assisted living facilities, and convention centers. He was born in Chicago and lives in Los Angeles.

Oh, You

by Amanda Mather

I've recently been seeing a man who compliments me constantly. In the two weeks since we started talking, he has called me beautiful, smart, sexy, hot, gorgeous, fucking gorgeous, mesmerizing, a goddess. On our dates, he often interrupts me (which I hate) to say I have beautiful eyes or a great smile (which I love, so it mostly evens out). He says he can tell I love to be adored, which is a true thing I think I should dislike about myself but don't. I know he's laying it on thick, but somehow when he says I have the smallest waist, I believe him more than I believe my own pants. That's the thing I dislike about myself: not my love of romantic adoration, but how easily I buy it and how utterly it sways me when little else can.

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Amanda Mather is a writer and data analyst living in Portland, Oregon. Her work is published here and nowhere else. Really, you’re lucky to be reading her at all.