Hands on my skin

They caress away my fears

Whispers in my ear

That tickle my soul

Lips touch my lips

And stars erupt

From the space

That once separated us

I grasp onto you

To every strand and thread

Afraid that you’ll unravel

At my touch

All I want to do

Is hold you close to me

And feel your warmth

Drain the ice from my heart

I feel your breath

On my skin

As you bless my lips

With a summer breeze

You push me down

And I see the light in your eyes

Your eyes close

As I open my eyes

I wipe the slumber

From my weary eyes

And sit up in my chair

As the chiming bell rings

You give me a smile

And I feel sick inside

As you walk by with your hand entwined

In the hand of another girl’s

I rubbed my eyes as I sat alone on my couch, my focus locked on the computer screen in front of me. I read over the last sentence I had typed up and smiled, so close to being done. I placed my hands on the keyboard, only to be stopped by a loud bang coming from the room next door. Releasing a sigh, I shut my laptop and stood up, arching my back and raising my arms over my head as I yawned. I reached over and shut off the lamp beside the couch and walked over to the balcony. The door was already open so I just slipped into the cool, spring air and sat down. I gazed out at the neighboring hotels and the mountains far in the distance and sucked in a breath.

I jumped as another loud bang sounded from my neighbors' room, except this time it was louder, and a series of smaller sounds followed it. I stood up and gazed at the balcony attached to my neighbors room. The hairs on my arms stood up as I watched the shadows dance across the curtains shielding my neighbors glass, balcony, door.

My neighbor had moved in at least a month ago, and ever sense, I had been hearing suspicious sounds from next door. I had considered calling the hotel management, or even the police, but had convinced myself everything was fine. I was starting to regret that decision.

Turning around, I stepped inside my room and slipped on my shoes. I wasnt gonna sit back and let my neighbor scare me just because of a few sounds, so I was gonna find out what they were doing. When I reached my front door, I hesitantly gripped the handle, my other hand slowly twisting the lock. My heart wouldnt stop pounding as I pulled the door open.

Everything seemed to slow down as I stepped into the hotel hallway. I gazed around at the yellow walls and the brown and black carpet, taking it all on as I shut my door. When the door clicked, the sound seemed to reverberate along my bones and my gut was gripped by an invisible fist of anxiety. I turned around and began to fidget with my hands as my neighbors door loomed in front of me.

I raised my hand and knocked nervously on the white door, my knuckles screaming with protest with each pound of my fist on the wood. I suddenly felt very stupid as my arm fell to my side but I was frozen, I couldnt even move to try and get back in my room before my neighbor got to the door.

A quiet whimper escaped my lips as the door creaked open, but I immediately hid my fear as my neigbour appeared in the doorway. She had short, ginger hair with barely visible freckles plastering her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her lips were plump and a rosy red and her eyes were a dazzling green. She was actually... pretty, nothing like I expected.

"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice soft and some what angelic. I shook my head, freeing myself from what seemed like a transe before replying

"No, I'm so sorry to bug you, I just heard some banging and, because it was so late at night,I wanted to come see if everything was alright." I stammered. She smiled sweetly, her teeth flashing.

"No problem. But you really shouldnt have come." She said, her voice changing from soothing to startling.

"Pardon me?" I choked out. The girls face began to morph into a horrific image plastered in blood and gore. I tried to scream but she reached out with clawed fingers and dragged me into her room by my hair. I choked on air as I sucked in breaths, trying to stay calm despite the situation. Maybe it was just a dream. Please let it be just a dream.

When she finally let go of my hair, she had morped back into the form of a woman, her body curving in and out like an hour glass. Every part of me envied her, but a small part of me also knew I should be terrified.

"Wh-whats going on." I croaked, my hands planted on the carpeted floor, the womans back to me as she walked towards the door.

"You just made a grave mistake, THATS whats going on." The woman hissed as she reached the door. But even after she said that, I wasnt purely terrified until she turned to face me, a malice grin dancing across her lips. And, when she pushed the door closed, I realized that these last moments were all I had, because when the door clicked, I was in her world, and her world was her territory.

When I heard the door click, my whole word collapsed around me, taking my sanity with it.

Your smile

Lights up my day

Your laugh

Chases my sadness away

Your eyes

Make my heart race

That look you give me

Brings heat to my face

Sometimes I wish

You would hold me tight

Because your smile

Makes my smile bright

Her eyes you ask? Well, once I got close enough to get a good look. My heart was pounding and my legs shook, It's that surreal moment when you're both staring into each other's eyes. You know, they know, you both know what happens next. It was slow in motion. There wasn't music playing; however, for some reason when I think back I hear "I Can't Help Falling in Love," the Haley Reinhart version. Anyways, her pupils sucked me in like black holes. Her hazel irises are colorful galaxies except better. As I stare, I see meteors colliding and stars gazing back at us in jealousy. Never realizing that her eyes were reflecting what was happening around us. When our lips touched the the planets, including earth, itself started to turn to dust. Almost like an hourglass but the grains of sand just vanished. Finally, it took us by surprised when the very ground below us disappeared. That's how you fall in love. And if you're lucky, you never land.

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fifteen minutes until my car backs out of the driveway for zero period band practice, and my sister’s door is still closed. I pull a baseball cap over the brown mess I didn’t bother smoothing into a socially acceptable mold of hair gel and guy-style. Grabbing my trumpet and backpack, all I can think about is Mr. Slater giving away my first chair position for being late. He threatened as much last time.

I glance at my watch and lean closer to the wall separating my room from my sister’s. No sounds of zipping backpacks or the off-key humming she likes to do when she’s getting ready. No meds-induced heavy breathing either. Even her service dog is silent.

Sophie sleeps hard. I think how it’s a miracle she wakes up at all after swallowing the mounds of pills she takes every day.

The outdated pictures in the hallway rattle when I close my door harder than I need to. I hardly recognize the cookie-cutter family posing with coordinated smiles and matching Christmas vests like none of them have a care in the world.

I stare at Sophie’s door handle and wonder how many fingerprints smudge its shiny surface. How many times I watched mom’s hand hover over it, worry lines underneath her smile. I roll my eyes and huff because she’s probably hunkered down under a mound of blankets next to a stretched out yellow lab. But as much as I try to shake the weight off my shoulders, I wonder if this will be the day Sophie doesn’t wake up. I steel my knees in case it is.

I think about What If? I’d be an only child. Again. Both my parents could be at the same performance on the same night listening to me playing a solo I’d earned in jazz band. I search the picture with just me and my parents taken before Sophie was even born. Before the world changed color. The kid sitting in between his parents smiling too big has no clue.

If something was wrong, Nana would’ve alerted. She’s trained to get someone and then lay with Sophie until she stops shaking. My heart beats one of those thumps where it feels like two at the same time, so I take a deep breath. I shake my head at myself because if Nana needed help, she’d be whining. Probably hasn’t even been taken out yet.

I reach for the handle but then dig my phone from my pocket instead.

I’m leaving in five. And if you want

a ride to school, you better hurry.

Hopefully she reads it. Hopefully she can.

Schrodinger’s sister.

I smirk at my joke but immediately curse myself for being cavalier. Not supposed to make jokes. Rule number 372 when you live with a chronically ill sibling. At least my physics teacher would be proud.

Familiar morning sounds of Mom rustling lunch bags come from the kitchen, and the smell of coffee beckons me to follow. With one last glance, I curse the shiny handle and tell myself Mom can check on her. She’s better at Sophie Duty anyway. And I’m seventeen, practically still a kid myself with five months of high school to survive so I can make it to college.

One of us has to.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Mom says. She’s sitting at the kitchen table sipping from a chipped mug. She slides the pamphlet she’d been reading across the table to my dad and looks at me the way she does when Sophie isn’t around. Like she sees me. “You get some sun yesterday? You’re a little pink.”

I touch my cheeks, but they don’t feel warm. I shrug.

“Hey, Theo.” Dad spoons sugar into his morning coffee and eyes the folded paper in front of him.

“Hey.” I pour my own into a paper carryout and slap a plastic lid on top. “Sophie’s not up and I gotta leave. Mr. Slater’ll be pissed, I mean, be mad if I’m late.”

Dad looks up, and a watch your language warning flashes in his eyes. As he opens his mouth to say it, his attention shifts and his face softens. “Hi Sophie. How you feeling?”

Standard greetings around here. Good morning, Sunshine for me and How you feeling for her. Despite the lecture I almost got, the knot in my stomach softens enough to make breakfast palatable as Sophie stumbles into the kitchen. I grab two slices of toast and a boiled egg from the food my mom has laid out on the table and wrap it in a napkin. Nana sniffs at the bacon and practically sits on Sophie’s feet.

“Hi, Daddy,” Sophie says. “My face burns a little, but I’m okay.” She walks over and drapes her arms over my mom’s shoulders. Nana whines. Someone needs to take her out.

“Mom, I can’t wait for her. I have to go.” I glance at Sophie. She sits in her chair next to Dad and begins to count out her morning pills as Mom piles bacon and eggs onto her plate.

“You have ten minutes to eat and then you have to get dressed. Theo has to get to practice, so I’ll take you when you’re ready.”

Sophie looks my way. “I can do better. I’m just real tired this morning.”

I grab my keys from the hook and am about to say see you later when Sophie gets a distant look in her eyes. She squeezes the pill bottle in her hand as her arm curls into her body. Mom is buried in another pamphlet.

“Mom!” I stand at the door, watching the scene in slow motion.

“Hun.” She nods to my dad and is out of her chair in a second. He looks at his watch.

Mom is petting Sophie’s hair, whispering into her ear. Nana bolts for the emergency med bag and drops it in front of Mom. Then she lays across Sophie’s feet, head down and eyes alert.

Sophie’s face is tangled with too many commands. Her left eye blinks over and over while the same side of her mouth is being pulled like a start chain on a lawn mower. The other side of her face looks completely melted as if it could slide down her body and onto the floor.

And then I’m thinking of that stupid On Top of Spaghetti song we used to sing when we were kids at summer camp. The one where the meatball rolls off the table and out the door. The knot in my stomach is back and brought a friend. I blink back the hot wet in my eyes and swallow the mess forming in the back of my throat. I fix my stare at Nana and hate myself for looking away.

Mom stands straighter and picks up the emergency bag. Nana sits up and puts her face on Sophie’s lap. Her arm loosens from its pretzel shape, and the left side of her face smooths into normal.

“Under a minute,” Dad says. “We’re good.”

He means we don’t have to call an ambulance or go to the emergency room, but my jaw clenches at his choice of words. Sophie smiles and only the left side of her face curls up. The right side isn’t as melted anymore, but it’ll be an hour or so before it works right. I check the clock on the wall and see I have exactly twelve minutes to be on the field.

I slip my jacket off the stand by the door and say see you later, but no one responds. As I close the door behind me, I hear the usual slurred I’m sorrys from Sophie and the Don’t Be Sillys from Mom. Nana will get a big treat for bringing the bag, even if Sophie didn’t need it this time.

Outside, cars zoom by on the main road out of our neighborhood. Morning walkers wave their Good Mornings to each other as they wiggle down the sidewalk. Birds sing their songs in the trees above. It’s one of those January mornings where the Northern California sky is bright and the air is brittle. A balmy 39 degrees. I blow into my hands to keep them warm.

The door of my old truck squeaks open and I settle onto the bench seat, my bags and cold toast next to me. I turn the key and gas the engine to start the seven minute drive to school, cranking the defroster so it works faster. No time to plug in my phone for tunes. I can make the field if I park in the faculty lot. It’s a risk, but I can always move it before real school starts. I might be able to get Bella’s yearbook photographer pass so I send her a quick text. As I’m about to shift into gear, a knock on the passenger window startles me.

“You forgot your lunch,” Dad says. “Mom told me to bring it out to you before you left.”

I lean over and crank down the window enough so he can pass the bag through.

“Thanks.” I cram the paper bag into my backpack. “Hey Dad, do you think you could write me a note in case I’m late?” I look up when there’s no answer, and Dad’s halfway up the walkway. “Okay, then.” I wind the window back up and shift into gear.

Nine minutes.

FIVE MINUTES LONGER is a story about grief, love, and accepting the messiness of life, complete at 62,000 words. It will appeal to readers who have enjoyed the themes of Marcella Pixley’s READY TO FALL and Jennifer Niven’s ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES.

This project is the culmination of working with my target audience as a literature and composition teacher and my personal experience raising a daughter with epilepsy and intellectual disabilities and her brother who suffers from survivor’s guilt. I hold a B.A and M.A in English and am pursuing a PhD in mythological studies.

The only boy that matters is the one that moves mountains for you. The only teachers that matter are the ones that allow you to write in pen. The only tests that matter are the ones given by God. The only pain that matters is the one that leaves you exceedingly stronger. The only smiles that matter are the ones that give you your own. The only car that matters is the one you receive your first kiss in. The only friend that matters is the one who shares their chocolate milk with you. The only job that matters is the one you enjoy waking up for. The only choice that matters is the one that pushes you forward. The only moments that matter are the ones that make your fingertips warm. The only aspect of life that truly matters is that you are intimidatingly happy, from the purest part of your gentle heart.

I lay in the sand

As the sea envelops me

It strokes my skin

With its silken touch

Slimy tentacles

Wrap around my leg

They threaten to pull me

To the depths where they grew

The waves crash

And steal my breath

I stare at the foam

As I take it into my lungs

I feel strong arms

Lift me from my tomb

But the water is too deep

And I'm already gone