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It’s evening outside Sprinkles Mystic Pub. The evergreens stand in quiet, creaking judgment of the starkly naked foliage. The copper still is…well….still. The cold seems to wrap everything in a vacuum hush. A little field mouse shivers as it wanders out of its burrow and decides dinner can wait till breakfast. The blue neon of the sign above the door shines brightly in the newly darkened…

Sunshine plays along the forest floor, rodents chase each other foraging as they go. One lone dark elf naps against a tree—until the tree smacks him for snoring louder than a chainsaw cutting firewood. Inside the pub it’s bright and cheery for an afternoon. The jukebox is brightly kicked on, playing “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” by Dead or Alive. Hecate is sitting with Marge, both women…

Sprinkles Mystic Pub is in full swing party mode. Decorations are everywhere, confetti carpets the floor, and the drinks are flowing like waterfalls. Rufus is at his customary table, two legs of his chair suspended as he leans back. Hugo sits at the end of the bar nearest the door, sipping his Ambrosia Lite and complaining to anyone who’ll listen that his wife decided he needed to “lay off the…

Dear You, I see you walking through the same ending we shared, yet you stand like a building that has not even lost a window. Your days seem to hold their shape. You laugh in the right places. You sleep without turning over until morning. You wake with the same steady rhythm you always had. Meanwhile, my body has turned against me. My chest feels heavy in the morning, as if my lungs have…