Dandelion, by John Shade

  For my grandfather, Frederick. Rest well, Gramp. Before the border wall, we scatter. Dandelions. The nanomachines grind us down and we float up and through the cracks, molecule to molecule, like holding hands. Leena hesitates, is left behind. She stands apart on the wrong side of the wall. She presses her hand to the … Continue reading Dandelion, by John Shade