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They buried the storyteller in the rain. Now an old man by the tavern fire tells fifteen tales, and in every one Peter finds Illyana again, and with every one the gray goes out of his hair.
Emmett Pell is eleven and cries at everything. Then he finds he can heal whatever breaks, as long as he feels every wound himself. Now the boy who made his life a misery is lying at the bottom of a frozen quarry.
His best friend went away, so Owen finished the spaceship Miles never did: two bicycles, a garden shed, and a pantry full of s'mores. Gone to get Miles. Back soon.
Between one heartbeat and the next, a dying engineer wakes on a beach where a night's sleep buys him a hundred days. What would you do with infinite time, if the universe were watching how you used it?
Adam Mercer's asthma makes breathing a negotiation. Then something hits his shoulder on the walk home — and the bracelet on his wrist starts speaking, half a second before the bus goes through the guardrail.
The richest man alive has the finest palate on earth. At the greatest feast ever assembled — fish carried across the sea in mountain snow, a wine saved ten years — he lifts the glass, drinks, and tastes nothing at all.
Mae takes the long way home, past a bakery that has been shut for years. Every day she smells fresh bread coming out of it. Nobody else does.
Six easy stops, then the hill — sixty-one fence posts Owen counts every time without meaning to. At the top is an old man who is always already outside, painting the west while it does something enormous.