I. E. Uzzell
Danny sat in the field, idly picking marigolds. It was never a concentrated effort, more of a casual pluck whenever he noticed a flower he thought was particularly lovely. He was looking forward to putting them in a vase when he got home, but right now, he was just enjoying the warm sunshine on his face. He knew all the exposure to the sun would probably burn him, or at least give him freckles, but he had such a strong distaste for sunscreen that he didn’t particularly care. He simply couldn’t abide by the sticky, oily substance. It made his skin crawl.
Do Not Eat Raw
Jack walked through the supermarket with a vague notion of wanting to bake something, but unsure of what he would actually make. It had been a while since he’d baked something, and he wanted to fill his house with nice, warm smells. His job at the local pool had been particularly unpleasant that day; his turn arrived to clean the bathrooms, and the dim yellow lighting, the wet strips of toilet paper stuck to the floor, the intense humidity, and the reek of urine and chlorine made him feel as if he’d been in the toilets themselves rather than just the bathroom.
Isaac ran down his driveway, heart thudding, trying to siphon out some of his rage, hoping his feet would somehow transfer all his emotions into the pavement. Really, what he wanted to do was hit something, but some small part of him recalled a study about catharsis making things worse, rather than better. Most of him didn't care, though, and wanted to do something violent.
The Meek Who Inherited
Cain sat in the empty apartment, looking down at what had once been the city lights of Miami, Florida. He could vividly recall being eight years old and feeling his heart swell at the thousands of twinkling lights that speckled the city, just as beautiful as any nature.