Author:
M.J. Swenson has been writing stories since elementary school and earned a B.A. in Creative Writing from the University of St. Thomas, Minnesota. Besides writing and reading, M.J. also enjoys playing music and video games.

I woke up feeling that something had changed.

I blinked twice, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and glanced at the clock beside my bed. It read 6:38, as it did every morning. I slid out of bed and moved to my dresser, where I opened the third drawer and pulled out a dark blue V-necked shirt with short sleeves and a dark blue pair of pants. I changed in front of the mirror and examined myself. I looked just as I had the last time I’d looked in the mirror: long, straight, dark brown hair; blue eyes; an absurdly straight and narrow nose; the slight scar at the edge of my eyebrow. The scar whose origin I still couldn’t remember.

Familiar Assassins

Thane and I barely spoke as we crossed the barren, dusty planes of Terminus again and arrived back at the Terminal. As I stepped into the port, I said, "I'm going to need a really good excuse for why I was out this long."


He looked me in the eye and moved into the port with me. "School project," he said. "It's not unlikely."


"Are you a practiced liar?" I asked, eyeing him.


"I escaped a prison." He pushed the button to start the port moving and took a step back, rolling his eyes. "What do you think?"


As the port began its ascent, I thought about the trip down, when I had been afraid to stand too close, afraid to let go. Now I stood a slightly greater distance away, one hand on the glass, no hands on Thane.


He seemed to notice, because he glanced at me and remarked, "Not hanging on for dear life this time, are you?"


"Like I was hanging on for dear life last time," I said, crossing my arms and daring to lean back against the glass wall behind me.


Chapter 22