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My brother’s seventh birthday party was a responsibility that fell squarely on my shoulders that year. Mine and Faye-Marie’s. Mom had started a new job and she was desperate for help, so could Faye-Marie and I please take charge of the decorations and games, for twenty bucks each, while she provided the cake and Jell-O? She didn’t have to say please. Of course Faye-Marie and I would do it... for twenty bucks each.

A typical workday brings many common thoughts and emotions for an adult. Sometimes, you’ll think ungenerous, intrusive thoughts about the people you interact with. Sometimes, random waves of anxiety will attack you when you’re just performing an everyday task. And you are always, always fatigued, by your professional work and by societal changes outside of your control. My Teacher is an ordinary adult just trying to get through the day.

Celine’s day was the same, come rain or shine. It helped that she never really knew what the weather was, but that was beside the point. As soon as she got her heart to stop palpitating after her alarm clock woke her up, she got up, brushed her hair, cleaned her teeth, got dressed nicely, just in case she met somebody new or got hit by a car, and then sat in her living room. She managed to ignore the postman’s knocking by keeping her curtains closed.

Casey Mattocks doesn’t remember the last time that her hands were clean, but she remembers the first time she told someone that they were dirty.

Work karaoke was his idea of hell, to be honest, though Matt strung along for the free bar. He sipped his pint too swiftly as he propped up against a faux marble pillar, watching his colleagues mingle while an analytics guy in Digital massacred I’d Do Anything for Love by Meatloaf. Third beer, already. Gonna be p****d at this rate. Nice view, though. The company had gone large for the anniversary and hired out a Kensington hotel, rooftop venue, windows framing Harrods in the

Author’s Note: My name is Dave Brennan, and I am a writer and mental health professional based in the United States. I live with my own...

Image source: Bhautik Patel on Unsplash On most Monday mornings, the parking lots buzzed with a certain vigor. They chattered about all...

Callum sighed as he pulled open another stiff drawer to be greeted by another cloud of dust. ‘More personal belongings…’ he muttered to...

Henry's dad used to love football. That's how it always used to be. Growing up, Henry spent more time in stadiums, breathing the cool air around him as he watched with anticipation the ball fly around the pitch, his dad's rough hand in his, than he did in his own room. In his own house. Or, that's how it felt, anyway. And he never once complained—why would he?