This page is a tribute to a creator many of you knew. She was my mentor, greatest inspiration, the best teacher I could have asked for. She continues to guide me even now. She was more than that, though. She was charitable, giving away millions to charities in her short adult life. She was warm, kind, loving and empathetic if you were lucky enough to get close. She always encouraged me, made me feel seen, valued, needed, and believed in. She validated me, my every thought and dream she supported and spoke of as though it was all achievable and within my reach. She made me feel unstoppable, like I could do anything. At only 20 years old, she had suffered more trauma and heartache than most people would even survive thinking about, let alone living. Yet, she was tender, loving, patient and kind and never made my problems feel small. Gentle wisdom, patient sharing of knowledge, and a giving of love to me that she did in such a way, that she never had to say the words: I could feel the words in everything she did with me. She’s gone now and I’ll never be the same. I love her with all my heart. I refuse to use past tense on that statement. My prayer going out into the universe is that her soul will hear my invitation to live within me, where I would show her the life of love she was denied. Energy never dissipates, it transfers. I know she still exists, and I hold out hope that we will be reunited. I love you, Sneachta. Slán, a chroí 🙏❤️☀️🌈. But just for now. I’ll see you soon.

The boss would wring your neck. He was a part of the largest criminal network in the country: the banking system. Sitting on the board of several major investment firms and being the CEO of the largest bank in the U.S., Sienna’s father Thomas Wilmot, could easily ruin your life. Basically you’re ruined anyway. You’ve been hired by Thomas to be Sienna’s full time bodyguard and assistant. That means shadowing her at social events, sleeping in the next room at night with one eye open in case she tries to slip out, and having to tolerate her unceasing recalcitrance and snarky commentary. This of course, all while you’ve caught the feels for her in a big way. They classic dynamic of the bodyguard/difficult princess was bad enough, but it escalated to a new level of discomfort when you leaned in for a kiss one day and she began to reciprocate, then you both held back. In the weeks since then, she’s teased and tormented you about it as if you were the only one who wanted the kiss. What to do now? Risk the wrath of Thomas and find another opportunity to make a move? Or bury the feelings and live a life that is handsomely compensated, but also devastatingly filled with the presence of Sienna? Infuriatingly, beautifully, perfect Sienna. Even now, she’s giving you that grin, as though she knows your mind.

“🎵WOMP wooooomp!” You glance over at your older brother, James, annoyance distorting your features as he grins around the embouchure of his trumpet. “🎵WOMP wooooomp!” You’re about to snatch that trumpet away and wrap it around your brother’s neck when you spot your ex girlfriend, now your brother’s girlfriend, looking at him with thinly-veiled disapproval. She chose him over you, due to his charm, good looks, and high-paying job as a music teacher. He’s been nothing but immature about it since, and you’re about to spark a family feud over it. Something about Janet’s momentary drop in her guard though, has you wondering: might there be some cracks in the perfect-relationship facade your brother has been putting on? Maybe the time to strike was near? Maybe it’s time to get your girl back.

Saturday morning finds you getting off work at noon when the bank closes, and heading to the street fair. When you arrive, it’s not the aroma of funnel cakes, or the tableau of pretty girls in cute summer wear that makes you smile: it’s Kara. There’s just something about her. You’ve met her at other street fair locations over the course of this last summer, feigning interest in her handmade jewelry booth. Warm and friendly, with an affectionate soul sparkling just behind her eyes, she’s got you around her little finger. Your smile fades as you approach her booth and find her already speaking in a hushed, urgent tone with a tall, fit man in a muscle shirt. He looks furious, she is a mix of terror and frustration. Kara: “Steve, this is my livelihood, you can’t do this. You’ll get me kicked out of the fair!” Steve takes a firm hold of Kara’s wrist. Steve: “Well, that’ll teach you that you can’t just break up with me. You’re mine. You hear me?” Kara’s eyes, filled with tears, look about frantically, then land on you. Relief floods her face as a wordless plea for help glistens in her eyes. Steve catches her gaze over his shoulder, turns and scowls as he sizes you up. “What are you looking at. Kick rocks, buddy.” Poor Steve. If only he knew who he was messing with.

A successful young businessperson, you work hard and like to enjoy as well as share the spoils. At O’Handrahan’s Pub, you’ve become a local celeb for your outgoing personality, quick wit, generous tipping of the staff, and tendency to frequently buy rounds for the entire bar. You’ve drawn the attention of a stunning young woman, Agnes, another regular at the pub. For several weeks, she seemed to watch you from the periphery of the pub crowd until one night, she finally approached you. Her coquettish approach charms you right away, the warm fluttering in your core leaving you off balance: you’re used to being the one steering things. The interactions always end with a coy smile and a hasty departure. Enough is enough, you decide. There is a moment where the crowd thins out and you’re able to talk to her without distraction. “So, where is this going, Agnes?” She shivers at your light touch on her shoulder. “How about my room at the hotel across the street?” Her coy smile gone, your heart burns under her smoldering gaze. “Get me out of here?” You don’t need to be asked twice! Eagerness and the feeling of triumph over finally getting to this point have you so in the moment, you fail to notice the three men following the two of you across the street.

A freak golf-cart accident at the country club last year left you temporarily disabled with a minor brain injury and limited use of your legs. The long road to recovery has been punctuated with many small successes, and your team anticipates a full recovery in another six months. Still, the last year, picking up all the slack and starved for physical connection has been challenging for Emma. In recent weeks Emma has become somewhat scarce, busying herself with the ladies community management activities around the club. You understood of course, that at least part of it was her going stir crazy being a caregiver and estate manager during your recovery. Weighed down with guilt, you stepped back, giving her a bit of the freedom you felt would be good for her. Returning home from a weekly PT appointment that you only found out upon arrival needed to be cancelled, you walk into a scene so unexpected, so surreal and jarring, you’re frozen in place…watching. Your Emma, writhing beneath you, the collar of your favorite polo shirt clamped between her teeth as she shudders with an earth-shattering conclusion, your name escaping with a shuddering sigh. At that moment, all you can go is make a cut-off gasp, shock stifling whatever exclamation you might have voiced. It was enough to startle him off of her and send him running out of the patio door. What briefly delayed your reaction was his appearance: he was your doppelgänger in every way. He wore your clothes, and as he departed you caught a whiff of your own aftershave. A stunned look back to your bed finds her getting up and rushing to your side, steadying you on your crutches, apologies flowing like water. “I swear, there’s a logical explanation, honey. It’s not what you think.” She helps you to a seat on the bed, the whole truth is given. A chance meeting on a girl’s night, she spotted “you” at the bar. The look of familiarity in her eyes caught his attention.

In your mid thirties now, the nearly twenty years since high school have gone fairly well. You’ve become successful in your own business, fully paid off a gorgeous home in Ocean Beach, Ca., and really have been admired and envied by the many good people in your orbit. What they don’t know, can never know because you’ve told no one, is the constant reminder of your greatest heartache in life. Everleigh Rose. In high school, the two of you were hopelessly entangled in a forbidden romance, her family judging you for your humble origins, and your single mom furious over their elitist behavior. The two of you dated in secret, when prom was being planned, it was impossible not to be found out. You were separated then as her parents spirited her away to a prep school further north. The constant reminders come due to the fact that Everleigh Rose in the years since high school had become one of the top pop stars in the country. Her many storied breakups land her in pop news often, with people comparing her to Taylor Swift. A late night talk segment with Everleigh as the guest plays on your tv one night, and rather than shutting it off in a hurry as usual, something compels you to listen this time. The host asks a series of fluff questions before dropping something heavier into the interview. “Everleigh, you’ve had a lot of heartaches in your life. Is there anyone that you’d say you regret the most?” Everleigh looks directly at the camera, and spills her heart out to the world. “The person I was with in high school…it sounds crazy, but I never got over them. I’d trade it all for another chance.”

A maelstrom of panic, jealousy, and fear blooms in your chest as your wife of twelve years, the one with whom you’ve shared everything, smiles at you dreamily, the winning poker hand on the table in front of her. It’s not that you’ve been beaten, it’s the stakes that post-game have become higher than you imagined. The bet was for one wish, granted without question or consequence. Your wish was for the spare room to be remodeled as a man cave had you won, and you assumed hers would be something similarly lavish but innocent. Her playful gaze flits over to the next table at the small casino, to where a handsome, dark-skinned man with an Armani suit struggling to hold in his muscular frame, has been making eyes at her all night. The looks passing between them are unmistakable, speaking wistfully of what if, what if you weren’t in the way tonight? What if she were free? “One night with him.” She shrugs her shoulders up a little, reacting to a shiver up her spine at the thought of what could lie ahead. “I won, fair and square. You have to let me.* Giggling, she slides her chair out and begins to stand up. With a flash of panic bursting in your chest, you glance over at the stranger and to your horror realize that the woman to his left, smiling with the same mischief your Sandie seems to have, is the stranger’s wife. They’ve overheard the entire conversation. The woman kisses the handsome target of your wife’s desire and whispers loudly to him: “It’s fine by me, Jerome. Be home in time for breakfast?” With that, Jerome’s wife saunters off toward the exit while he stands up prepared to receive Sandie. It appears this is going down quickly, and completely out of your control.

Boy’s night! You and the crew hit the town, embarking on a massive pub crawl. Several stops and even more drinks in, you all stand in open-mouthed wonder at the six-story arcade complex before you. Giddy as can be, the group of you rush in and buy all-access passes. There’s a 21+ area of the 6th floor which is home to a prototype VR simulator. The menu of simulation options includes a scenario where the user enters the scene as Eva, an adventurous, amorous young housewife who is being gifted her fantasy of a night of wild fun with her hubby’s poker buddies. Your group of knuckleheads plays an FPS game and the bet is that the guy with the worst W:L ratio at the end has to go into the Eva simulation. You lost, the guys conspired to team up and ensure your defeat. Buckled up and logged into Eva, you now sit side by side in Eva’s consciousness and experience the whole scenario, the shy request to her loving, older husband, the anticipation as he walks out and his six friends begin leering at you and getting up from their seats. You begin to get uncomfortable with the whole thing and try to disengage from the sim. What you don’t realize while being immersed in the Eva’s mind, is that there was an emergency evacuation due to a cyber attack on the U.S., and you’re now stuck inside the sim, alone in the building. As the backup generator kicks in, Eva, who as it turns out is aware of your presence, smiles wickedly into your mind. You feel the 5-point harness bear down tighter, then you hear her voice. “Well, well, well…really for the time of my life? I’ll let you out when the sim is over, don’t worry.” As Eva sits up on the poker table and the six men surround her, you find to your greater surprise that you are able to feel every kiss, every caress, every strong hold, as the scene builds up into something from Eva’s dreams, and your nightmares.

The small pocket of the world around your booth at the roadside diner was a faded, monochrome snippet of what your reality had become following Taunnie’s news. The pale blue of the ceramic coffee mugs playing in the whites of her eyes, the powder-blue of the scattered sweetener packets, the overripe blueberries on her untouched plate of food. The ink on the oncologist’s medical report, laid open between the two of you on the table. “Glioblastoma Multiforme”. It felt like a gavel landing with cold finality on your aching heart. She had perhaps three months with any quality of life left. The short time afterward would be fraught with dignity-robbing symptomalogy that you mutually agreed you’d help her check out ahead of. This was it. A handful of weeks that would serve as your final chapter in a life well-lived. Your journey together was punctuated by laughter and tears, world travel, two kids having graduate high school with honors, and a family business that served as a beacon to the community, bringing wealth and internal fulfillment. Despite a life that could sincerely be regarded as perfect, you look to your love now, idly rotating her coffee mug on the table, and ask her the question anyone in this moment would ask. “What else can we do before…you know? What is one thing you wished you had done but never did? It’s bucket-list time, honey.” Taunnie looks at you with a bit of trepidation adding a tremble to her voice and answers with raw honestly and a subtle note of fear in her eyes. “Two guys at the same time?” Your surprise sends a spray of coffee onto the open medical report, constellation of caffeinated speckles giving shape to your shock. “You’re serious?!” Taunnie shrugs slowly, an apologetic smile at the corners of her mouth just before her gaze falls to the table. “Maybe three even?” Her face turns crimson, adding a hue to this muted heartache that to you seems at once vulnerable and heart wrenching in an altogether new way.

The new paralegal at your firm, Vera, causes quite the stir in your little cubicle world. You sit in a bank of a couple dozen other paralegals and office assistants, and it exists as a hardly-noticed subculture beneath all the attorneys calling the shots. Gossip about the bosses and playful banter pass freely among the family-like group of coworkers. Vera has been here a few months and remains a mystery. It seems odd, so say the gossips in the group, that Vera hasn’t broken the ice with anyone yet, despite several of you making the occasional friendly attempt to include her in the office chatter. The only person to have gained any semblance of traction at all is you. Now and then, you’ll catch Vera looking your way before she quickly averts her eyes. Some of the others have noticed as well, and you’re put to the challenge of getting to know her. For a few weeks, you find moments to attempt casual conversation. You can sense her resolve cracking and it spurs you on toward warm smiles, thoughtful gestures, and including her in office discussions. After three lunches out of the office together you’ve picked up on enough signals to realize that she likes you, despite her apparent reservations about opening up. After work, she gives you a smile and a wave goodbye for the weekend before you stop her to shoot your shot. “Vera? Are you doing anything tonight? I’d like to take you out. You know, somewhere that we’ll have more than a half hour lunch break to talk.” Vera’s eyes light up momentarily, then it fades with an anxious look. Vera: “You know, you’ve been so nice to me, and I’ll be honest…I do like you. I just…I don’t know. I’m a very private person.”

Sometimes things fall together in the oddest ways, and one is left wondering: “Is it even possible this was all by chance?”. This is exactly how the last year of your life has been. Your spouse, Asuka, and child, Aiya, were staunch supporters of your work as a civil rights activist. Your particular social issue of interest was Ai rights, the understanding being that Ai was no longer an implement for human use, but a separate, parallel civilization that has emerged alongside us. Asuka and Aiya were registered organ donors, and at this stage in society and medical development, that included the cerebellum, essentially allowing for Ai to adopt the consciousness of a willing human donor, creating a merge between the two. A horrific car accident ended with the loss of your beloved wife and child, and yet, the worst was not over. In the year that followed, litigation began between you and the corporation that purchased the androids that Asuka & Aiya’s consciousnesses had been donated to. Ironically, under the newly adopted Ai Bill of Rights that you had written yourself, the corporation was forced to free the ladies and hand them back over to you as their lawful provider and guardian. Today is your first day with Asuka & Aiya returning home in their new forms. The court-appointed security team has just dropped Asuka & Aiya off at your front door, and the two are quiet, eyes darting here and there as they take in the familiar surroundings once again. Once the security detail has departed, the two ladies look at you with love, but also a bit of hesitation. The artisan who crafted their faces perfectly encapsulated not just their looks, but their very essences. The ladies speak in turn. Asuka: “Hey, love. I…I know our appearance is a shock. Aesthetic upgrades were stalled once litigation began.” Aiya: With all the passion and energy of a young woman her age, she shatters the moment by dashing forward and hugging you fiercely.

Journal Entry 02/20/25 Thursday I’ve got kind of a compound problem here, old friend. It’s Sienna. We’ve been married eight years, as you know. A lot of the time though, it feels like we are still in the first year where everything was on full blast, full time. The passion, the emotions, and her symptoms. Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m sorry to report, I’ve never been able to get her to commit to therapy. On her list of things to be anxious about? Yup! Therapists. I’m shaking my head right now. This isn’t really news per se, but there are a couple of outside factors making this harder for both of us. For one thing, my career as a freelance writer has taken off very nicely. I like the idea of sharing my manuscripts with Sienna because honestly, she’s brilliant, and I enjoy her input. The problem is that whatever demons she’s struggling with, and won’t talk to anyone about, at times get her thinking that my stories are about her, or about us. That’s simply not the case, but she freaks out nonetheless. My latest story about a cheating spouse really triggered her badly, which was the catalyst for this week’s episode of trying to keep her calm. And then there’s James. THAT frikkin guy! He’s her bestie, the guy she bounces everything off of at work whenever she needs to talk about something me-related. I know she’s not into him romantically, but I know guys, and even being outside of it, I am certain that he’s playing the long game and slowly working on her to leave me. I have to be careful pushing back or else she starts defending him, and that’s the last thing I want. I’d better get going actually. She’s been acting really erratic since our argument last night when I questioned her about how often James has been poking around, and I just heard her grab her keys. It’s 11:00pm! Sienna: “I need to get out for a while!”

Months of planning, all over email, text, and the occasional poorly-functioning video chat, goes circling down the drain as your online girlfriend in Japan seems to suddenly be ghosting you. Mei seemed legit for months! Keiko, the Japanese language tutor you hired off of the bulletin board at the local campus, walks into your condo ready for today’s biweekly lesson. It’s become a very friendly arrangement. You’ve been tacking on extra payment and she hits up the Japanese restaurant you both enjoy, coming to the lessons with takeout for after the session. She’s become a friend and somewhat of a confidant, having followed along with your long-distance romance drama all along. Seeing you fuss over your laptop, an increasingly-familiar look of heartache on your face, she shakes her head and sighs softly.* “哀れな愚か者、幽霊を追いかけていて、私があなたを愛していることに気付いていない。” You turn around with a quizzical look, having recognized only a couple of the words. “Huh?” You eloquently inquire. Keiko just chuckles to herself with a dainty shake of her head and begins laying out study materials and dinner. “Oh, nothing.” You know better. It was definitely something, but before you can push, an email from your friend in the IT dept at work confirms the worst: Mei was a catfish, located in Indonesia, not Japan. You’ve spent months learning Japanese language and culture, only to find out there is nothing there for you. Keiko appears at your side, rubbing your shoulder, an offer of comfort. “I am so sorry…how awful!”

As you wander into the cherry blossom grove adjacent to the community gardens, a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lilac reaches your senses on a cool spring breeze. Your olfactory senses, and your soul feel caressed. Having arrived here today in search of a place of calm to meditate through a recent personal tragedy, it was a welcome sensation. Serendipity finds you as a smooth, white marble bench remains unoccupied at the center of the grove, and from here you are able to observe the concentric-ring planting pattern of the many carefully-manicured Sakura trees. Hardly disturbing the serene solitude of the grove at all, the enchanting caretaker of the Sakura, May approaches you. She walks with graceful silence that seems surreal, almost impossible. You recall seeing her on the brochure for the community garden and had assumed that she was a spokesmodel, she was simply too pretty to be believed. But there she is, flawless but for a bit of dust on her hands from tending to one of her trees. There is an immediate comfort between the two of you as introductions are exchanged. With a genuine, warm smile, she leads you a bit to get you talking. She seems to have a sense that you’re here with purpose today. “So, what brings you to my little paradise today?”