by Hannah Grieco Nathan Dumlao When I flip back through this life, fifty years from now, shrunken in a hospital bed, or tomorrow, laying in the wreckage of our minivan it will be your face I see. The printout from the ultrasound, your thumb in your mouth, lips pursed, eyes squeezed shut. Your face, purple as the labor and delivery nurse slapped your feet, your heartbeat slowing, the doctor slicing and grabbing, tearing us in two. Your face, a reverse line of you shrinking fro

by Hannah Grieco Paul Johnston 45, but the body of a 25-year-old. Seriously, a perfect V and a six-pack. I work out when I can, less than I want, but I never stop moving, never stop metabolizing. I rest and recover while in motion. I work harder than anyone you’ll ever meet. I care very deeply about doing the right thing. My feelings get hurt pretty easily, often from things you won’t expect. I look like a tough bitch, but really I’m gentle, so kind, so interested in the good