I am Joshua L. Greene. And I am responsible for the fire that destroyed Briarwood Winery on October 19th. My reasoning for doing so will be explained in this confession. On the night of October 19th, I stayed at work late to help clean up after the tasting event. We had brought extra glasses up from storage in the cellar, and I was helping clean them so they could be returned to the dusty boxes they called home. My coworker, Sam, was rushing the dishes, leaving remnants of lipstick on the rims. “Slow down, man! Isn’t this paid overtime for you?” I told him. He paused briefly, turning his gaze to me. “You do know why it’s paid overtime, right?”…

Through these old records, I will inform you of the incident that occurred years ago in a small village named Crete. I am a scholar and investigator who will notify you of the research I have gathered about the local college in Crete. I will give the reader a brief overview of the school’s origins. Built in the 1760s, the University of Crete became the village’s first to offer academic programs. In 1765, it was built as a fully functional institution that the Board of Education authorized. The workers hired to build the halls were instructed not to venture unnecessarily through the tunnels within the basement. At first glance, the school appeared to be like any other. Through further view,…

It started in the girls’ changing room after gym. Standing on the cold tile floor while scrubbing off the sweat with a wet wipe. I’ve been here so many times my movements are automatic, almost involuntary, whilst I am in my own mind, milling the minutes until next period. My movements halted, I was scared. Am I trapped? Dying? Using my joints is now similar to the clicking in place of metal gears. Click click click. My first instinct was to hide until I could regain my composure. An unknown sickness took over me. The girls can’t see me like this, it’s too much. They’ll look down on my weakness. “Adina?” It slithers in and out of my ears like…

Through these old records, I will inform you of the incident that occurred years ago in a small village named Crete. I am a scholar and investigator who will notify you of the research I have gathered about the local college in Crete. I will give the reader a brief overview of the school’s origins. Built in the 1760s, the University of Crete became the village’s first to offer academic programs. In 1765, it was built as a fully functional institution that the Board of Education authorized. The workers hired to build the halls were instructed not to venture unnecessarily through the tunnels within the basement. At first glance, the school appeared to be like any other. Through further view,…

I am Joshua L. Greene. And I am responsible for the fire that destroyed Briarwood Winery on October 19th. My reasoning for doing so will be explained in this confession. On the night of October 19th, I stayed at work late to help clean up after the tasting event. We had brought extra glasses up from storage in the cellar, and I was helping clean them so they could be returned to the dusty boxes they called home. My coworker, Sam, was rushing the dishes, leaving remnants of lipstick on the rims. “Slow down, man! Isn’t this paid overtime for you?” I told him. He paused briefly, turning his gaze to me. “You do know why it’s paid overtime, right?”…

It started in the girls’ changing room after gym. Standing on the cold tile floor while scrubbing off the sweat with a wet wipe. I’ve been here so many times my movements are automatic, almost involuntary, whilst I am in my own mind, milling the minutes until next period. My movements halted, I was scared. Am I trapped? Dying? Using my joints is now similar to the clicking in place of metal gears. Click click click. My first instinct was to hide until I could regain my composure. An unknown sickness took over me. The girls can’t see me like this, it’s too much. They’ll look down on my weakness. “Adina?” It slithers in and out of my ears like…

It started in the girls’ changing room after gym. Standing on the cold tile floor while scrubbing off the sweat with a wet wipe. I’ve been here so many times my movements are automatic, almost involuntary, whilst I am in my own mind, milling the minutes until next period. My movements halted, I was scared. Am I trapped? Dying? Using my joints is now similar to the clicking in place of metal gears. Click click click. My first instinct was to hide until I could regain my composure. An unknown sickness took over me. The girls can’t see me like this, it’s too much. They’ll look down on my weakness. “Adina?” It slithers in and out of my ears like…

Through these old records, I will inform you of the incident that occurred years ago in a small village named Crete. I am a scholar and investigator who will notify you of the research I have gathered about the local college in Crete. I will give the reader a brief overview of the school’s origins. Built in the 1760s, the University of Crete became the village’s first to offer academic programs. In 1765, it was built as a fully functional institution that the Board of Education authorized. The workers hired to build the halls were instructed not to venture unnecessarily through the tunnels within the basement. At first glance, the school appeared to be like any other. Through further view,…

I am Joshua L. Greene. And I am responsible for the fire that destroyed Briarwood Winery on October 19th. My reasoning for doing so will be explained in this confession. On the night of October 19th, I stayed at work late to help clean up after the tasting event. We had brought extra glasses up from storage in the cellar, and I was helping clean them so they could be returned to the dusty boxes they called home. My coworker, Sam, was rushing the dishes, leaving remnants of lipstick on the rims. “Slow down, man! Isn’t this paid overtime for you?” I told him. He paused briefly, turning his gaze to me. “You do know why it’s paid overtime, right?”…