The Globs

They’re coming in on big waves in high tide, translucent, bubble-shaped, seemingly inert,
clinging to ice plant, debris, litter, on the backs of other sea life, scurrying in the sand, burying themselves deep, nourished on sand life, hydrated on salt water absorbed through porous membranes.

Poisonous to touch, impossible to destroy, emerging as the new life, the new species from mother water, arriving simultaneously on seven continents.

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Closure

They met online, emailed, talked on the phone for over a year, and finally, they were going to meet. Her heart pounded as she sat waiting, her hand in her pocket on the gun she would use to kill the man who had lured her baby sister to her death.

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