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Christopher Keast (CANADA)


Jed laid in bed half-awake, thinking about the words he was missing from his latest writings. That was part of the trouble those days. The other side of his bed where Selma used to lay was empty. His lover for so many years, gone for more days than he could count. He sat up and grabbed his IMoovOns from the bedside table, putting the large metal frames with tinted lenses over his eyes and attaching the sticky pads to his head. His therapist told him to reserve it for certain occasions, when needed most, as part of his healing process. Jed knew it wouldn’t last forever. Today it was deserved. He pushed the GO button on the left arm of the frames. Selma appeared next to him as though a television screen had been turned on, transmitting through thin air. A translucent pigment of light cast down from Heaven, he…