The Cedarville Review 2024

42 FICTION Dear Jeffey, Someone once told me that everything we see is really just a bunch of pictures or snapshots strung together like some elaborate stop-motion. ‘Course, I know it’s all rubbish now, but when I was a kid, I really believed it. Something about it enchanted me, I guess, and I used to watch the stars shift across the sky at midnight. I wasn’t supposed to be awake, but I didn’t realize it was wrong, you know? I just wanted to watch each moment and each star. I’m a long way from that now. Out here in Chicago, you can hardly see them even if you want to. And most people don’t. They’ve got some Dear Jeff ey Adelyn Olson other business to do, I suppose. Phone calls to make, taxis to hail, arguments to be had, late night meetings. But I still like to look for them, somewhere up there, hiding behind skyscrapers. Somewhere outside all this stone and metal and smoke. I’m thinking someday I can get there, you know? That beautiful place, where you’re free and safe and happy. But anyway, on this night there weren’t any stars to be seen. Not one, Jeffey. It kinda scared me because I knew it was storm clouds covering them up, and I’ve never much liked storms. Not since… well you remember, Jeffey, back when we were little. This night I was out