I wanted coffee.

So I decided to make a cup of coffee.

I use the pour over kind, don't ask me why,

      and not the machine, but it was dirty at the bottom of a full sink.

And the dishwasher was full of clean dishes that needed emptied

     before the dirty ones could go in.

So that I could put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher,

     and reach the pour over coffee maker,

          down at the bottom of a dirty sink,

              so I could make a cup of coffee.

I took the clean dishes out of the dishwasher one by one, and started to put them away.

     but then I heard my Facebook messaging notification ding.

         Oh I wonder what that could say?

It was a family who was coming today to get my son's old bassinet

      He had never even slept in it, but I was still sad,

           but they were giving me twenty dollars, so I was glad.

Back to the kitchen sink.

Emptying the clean dishes one by one.

Soon I would surely be done.

"Mom! The baby needs a diaper change!" my middle son shouts.

I continue emptying the dishes, hoping he would leave me be.

"Mom! He stinks! He's right next to me!"

Sigh. I'll just change him real quick, and it'll be done in no time.

Maybe instead of coffee, I should just skip to the glass of wine.

Back to the kitchen sink.

Emptying the clean dishes one by one.

Soon I would surely be done.

Oh, no. What if the family who is coming to get the bassinet can't find us? I thought, worriedly. I better send them more info in a hurry!

Back to the computer, where I also noticed I had an email.

Oh my goodness, I began to wail.

It was an important email from my sons' teacher who was assessing their homeschool portfolios and needed photos of them doing science projects, on field trips, and more.

Oh, my brain began to roar.

I spent the next fifteen minutes gathering up photos to send.

Oh, this was never going to end.

Back to the kitchen sink.

Emptying the clean dishes one by one.

Soon I would surely be done.

The clean dishes were put away

So I filled the dishwasher with the dirty ones

Soon I would surely be done.

At last, the dishes were nice and clean

And the pour over coffee maker no longer at the bottom of the sink.

The water was heating up in the tea kettle.

And my nerves began to settle.

Finally, coffee aroma filled the room

    and flowers all around me started to bloom

A symphony began to sing

    and no more facebook notifications pinged and dinged

I held the hot mug in my hands

    and did a little inner dance

I gobbled down the liquid fast.

    Coffee at last.

I never should have volunteered at the children's hospital. I don't think there's much time for me, but I do think the public should know what happened to me, if I can't find a way to escape.

"Thank you so much for volunteering. We're so happy to have a nurse with such an extensive military background,"

The secretary at the Children's Hospital was pretty cute, a perky blonde with a radiant smile. I smiled back and asked if I'd be lucky enough to have her as a tour guide. With a blush and a sigh, she replied. "Darn, I can't leave this desk. I'll have to call a nurse down here to show you the ropes. I hope you stay here longer than the rest of the volunteers though! You're super cute."

Whoa, red flag. "What happened to the rest of the volunteers?"

A nurse showed up at that moment to whisk me away for a tour of the hospital, nothing out of the ordinary except a corridor no one is allowed to go through.

"Who is allowed to go there?"

"A few military personnel, some doctors and nurses with special clearance. But don't worry, you'll never have to go there. You'll start tomorrow, in the Blue Wing. Ask for Dr. Gupta."

I knew I wasn't going to get any answers out of her, so I left, making sure to wink at the cute receptionist before leaving. It's always good to have someone on your side when starting at a new place.

When I got home, I called my buddy in the military over to my place to ask about any projects in the nearby Children's Hospital. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but gave extra emphasis on the denied part and asked me to keep an eye on it since they're clearly either lying outright or have a completely secret branch of the government involved. "Ol boy can't seem to get away from danger, heh? Should've just stayed in the military, son."

Curiosity started to eat at me every day I volunteered my time. The door seemed innocuous, just a simple white door with a keypad. I never saw anyone enter or exit, and no one ever gossiped about it. Essentially, the door didn't exist.

One day, the receptionist surreptitiously handed me a clipboard with a bunch of forms attached and a pen. "What's this for?"

She couldn't even look at me. The papers had embossed government seals on each one. I sat down and read through every one, and by the time I finished, an agent appeared before me.

"You don't have to sign just yet, it's just a formality. You already agreed to volunteer here, and we'd like to invite you to the corridor to finish the discussion."

"These forms basically force me to secrecy to the day I die, what exactly is going on here?"

The agent just walked away with confidence, knowing I would follow him and not just leave the whole place like my gut was screaming at me to do. He typed a series of digits on the keypad, and we entered the corridor.

The door clicked shut behind us, and pit bulls with bloodlust in their eyes began barking and snarling at me.

"Settle down," commanded the agent. They whimpered away. The corridor seemed endless with several doors with glass windows along the way.

"Sign the forms, and then we'll talk."

"I want to leave now."

He laughed in a way I knew I wasn't getting out of here without fighting my way out. I signed the damn forms.

"A Guatemalan child came to this hospital by herself ten years ago with an unknown virus. Her eyes were crying blood, and she had a fever of 120 degrees, five degrees higher than the world record for highest recorded body temperature. She spoke no English, only in Tongues. The doctors brought her to this quarantine corridor and called the CDC who contacted the CIA which brings us here. First, quick metal detector screen and then I'll give you a quick tour,"

Shit, I hid my phone in my boxers. We weren't allowed to bring phones into the hospital, but I definitely needed it now more than ever. The detector screeched at my crotch area.

"Oh yeah, silly me, belt buckle." I took off my belt and handed it to him, praying he wouldn't go over that area again.

"Yeah I know it's a silly rule, but we can't have you bringing any cell phones here and breaking your NDA, huh?"

"Agent Willis, we need that new volunteer stat! The twins need-"

The blood soaked doctor stopped as he realized I must be the new volunteer he was referring to. "Nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Rodriguez, uh, are you caught up to speed? We need you right now."

Agent Willis threw down the metal detector and told me to follow Dr. Rodriguez. I had no choice but to follow directions.

"Is the Guatemalan girl still alive?"

"Oh yes, she's very much alive. Actually, she hasn't aged a bit in ten years,"

We passed by several rooms, each locked by a padlocked door with a small barred window. Each had huge splotches of blood in various stages of dryness. We entered the very last room, a small cube with a rusty bare tub and a mirror. A nurse carried a set of fraternal twins with blood oozing from their mouths.

"We need to transfer the virus now, they're dying. Stage three, vomiting blood."

Transfer the virus? No way, I didn't sign up for that. I started to protest loudly when

she handed me the twins and I felt a prick on my shoulder. The doctor gave me a shot while I wasn't looking. "You- you can't do that, I didn't consent to this! I didn't know about any of this!"

Agent Willis, Dr. Rodriguez, and the nurse left the room, shutting me in.

"The first stage is haemolacria, tears of blood. Second stage is the fever, and with it comes the delusions and hallucinations. Third stage is vomiting copious amounts of blood. Fourth stage is death. We found that transferring the virus to a new patient reverses the symptoms in the original patients to stage one. At that point, they never age past the age they received the virus, and we are still looking for a total cure for haemolacria. We're still not sure if what we're looking at is agelessness and stunted growth for a few decades until relapse or actual immortality! Don't worry, we'll find someone for you to transfer the virus to. We don't want it to die with you. There's always new volunteers at the children's hospital."

I'm not sure what to think about any of this. I gave the twins a quick wash in the tub, but every five minutes a seemingly endless amount of blood erupts from their tiny mouths. The shot they gave me is making me feel weak, and I'm starting to get an itching feeling in my eyes. I still have access to the hospital's wifi, but I can't call anyone. I guess I have no choice but to wait.

The apocalypse began at dawn. Every phone, television, and computer woke up before anyone else and blared a government warning to stay indoors, lock up, and do not panic. My mother comforted my younger brother David and our two dogs Sasha and Bud as I took inventory of our food supplies (abysmal) and the situation (also abysmal). Zombies? In 2017? I figured someone hacked a universal alert system to scare the masses. It'd be all over before the day ends.

David was the first to die. He begged my mom to let him go outside to play in the afternoon sunshine with the other kids at the playground. From where we live, it did look like all the neighborhood children were congregating at the park, albeit with a bit worn out and sluggish gait to their play. Since our internet and cable wiped out a few hours ago, we were getting restless staying indoors all day. And since there were no definitive proof of zombies, only a few gruesome tweets and articles before the internet shut off, my mother decided it was all a silly prank and allowed David to go outside.

He only made it a few steps before they descended on him.

He banged on the door and cried for us to let him back inside.

We left him for dead to save ourselves.

My mom quickly descended into insanity after David's death. We could hear him outside clawing at our doors and windows, begging for us to let him in. His zombie self looked hellish and tormented, and my mom would try to open the door for him every few hours. I locked her in a windowless room when I couldn't watch over her.

Our dogs scratched and whined at the door for days on end, until I trained both of them to relieve themselves in the bathroom. Day four, and my mom renamed Sasha David.

I forgot to lock her bedroom door on day five. She let the dog out so she can "get some sunshine", and let her back in before I realized what happened. We now own a zombie dog.

I can't kill Sasha/David without potentially drawing my mother to the point of no return, so I created a playpen in the living room to separate her from us. Now Bud whimpers in the corner of my room all day.

My mom feeds Sasha/David pieces from her meal, even though I warned her about splitting her already meager rations. She grew thinner as Sasha/David grew fatter and meaner.

I tried to convince my mother to shoot the abomination after I caught the dog trying to gnaw its way out of the playpen. My pleas fell on deaf ears, until I slapped her.

Her eyes widen, and she scrambled around for the rifle gun we keep in the cabinet. I finally awoken her from her insanity...

She aimed for Sasha/David.

She shot Bud, then kicked me out of the house.

At least I have David to keep me company, while we wait for our mother.

I first noticed something was wrong with my younger brother David when he was two months old. My mother and I were living in a sparse homeless shelter in New York City for several months after he was born. I'd help feed and take care of my baby brother whenever I could, but I knew he wasn't a normal baby. He'd look at me with his round, empty eyes and I'd start to feel uneasy, as if the world doesn't quite make sense anymore and reality wasn't as simple as I thought as an eight year old child...

Now he's eight years old. My mother had another son two years after him. The ten year old, Travis, is the quintessential young boy, always running amok with a boisterous and mischevious air. His energy is tangible, and when you look into his eyes you can't help but to feel joy. David is the polar opposite. He withdraws from all social contact; when he is in a social situation, one can plainly see that he doesn't know what to say or do. He is a lonely, angry child. His eyes remain unsettling. The school already contacted my mother about the potential dangers regarding his powers that will emerge in puberty, as superpowers are rooted in a person's core personality. My powers haven't even emerged yet and I'm 16, so my entire family are under close surveillance by the NSA. The National Superpower Agency keeps an eye out for any anomalies in the population that may cause mayhem, as most powers were beneficial to careers such as medicine and law and not necessarily a life of crime and villainy. My mother has the gift of precision, and we moved out of the shelter in New York once she finished nursing school. Now, she's on her way to becoming one of the top surgeons in the city. Many people adjust their careers according to their powers they develop in puberty, no later than age 14. Travis will probably have an athletic power since he's naturally energetic and tireless, but David could harbor some dark energy.. And as for me, I'm a little bit of both. I'm popular and happy to the outside world, but I've been diagnosed with depression and panic disorder. I punch walls and cut myself whenever I get too angry, lest someone else may get hurt because of me. I may be as unstable as David, and that might be the reason why there's a letter from the NSA in my mother's uncharacteristically shaky hands.

"Everyone come here. I have bad news."

My brothers sat at the kitchen table and looked solemnly at Mom. My stomach clenched at her tears.

"David and Susan, you two are going to a special place for a bit while the doctors find out what's causing all your sadness... I love you two very much, and I think it'd be a good thing. Maybe you'll find out your powers as well and-"

A succession of three rapid knocks on the front door interrupted her, and a cascade of soldiers flooded the room.

I woke up in a sterile room alongside my brother. He was still asleep, with electrodes protruding from his brain and marking his brain waves on a monitor next to him. I struggled for a bit until I realized they restrained me with worn leather straps. Anger started to well up inside, and an unfamiliar sense of power began to course through my body. My fingertips went numb, and I reached for my brother's hand. "Please don't be scared,"

A young doctor entered the room.

"Your family was in great danger. We believe that your brother harnesses an extraordinary amount of negative energy, while your other brother contains an unusually high amount of positive energy. We have reason to believe their superpowers may be too powerful and too opposite of each other that they may cancel each other out. As well as the entire East coast. As for you, we believe you're capable of shielding people from harm, judging by your masochistic personality. You'll be a great asset to the U.S. Military."

"What.. What about my brothers?"

"Oh, they'll be a great asset as well,"

You got me inside out

And I can't hardly breathe

Cause your sight takes me away

To another place that I would rather be than without you

But to you I'm

Just another girl passing by where you work just to see you

You got me going the long way just to see you

I watch your face as you work

Your smile seems fake, your lips turn just so

But when you see me, can it be

That you're waiting just for me?

It can't be... it shouldn't be...

You grab my waist and pull me in

We've met a few times before

Chance encounters on the road

But each time it's time to go

We actually never said a word

But one day I'll tell you that

You got me inside out

Can't wait to see you cause your smile takes me away to a whole other place that I refuse to leave anymore

And I refuse to

Be the random girl passing by where you work just to see you

Just let me know if you feel the way

If you feel the way that I do

What does it mean to be Puerto Rican? It's abuela in her bata and beaded chancletas making enough arroz con gandules to feed the entire block. It's owning several banderas to dance and decorate la casa with. It's empanadas sold on the street for a dollar, begging your mamí for a dollar to buy from the coco stand after school, it's family bonchinche and watching novellas and Caso Cerrado on a humid afternoon. We are descendants of warriors, Taíno Natives, who respected the fertile island. It's sipping on a strong coquito or piña colada after a long day at work, browning arms after picking the yucca and plataños for tonight's meal, seasoning the freshly killed pet guisao with adobo and sazón. It's a feeling of the coqui song resonating in your heart, the island tugging you back to the homeland, and never wanting to leave Puerto Rico ever again.

"I can't take it anymore!" His meaty hands pulled at his stringy brown hair in a flout of passion, his shirt rising to expose a large swathe of pale flesh. He swiveled his chair towards me and grumbled, "I swear, these people are going to make me have an aneurysm, what with my mother driving me crazy and these clowns not doing their jobs, just the other day..."

And the familiarity of his voice drifted me into a daze, and my eyes drifted towards the computer. What does he do in here all day? I doubt the masturbating rumors are true. Damn, this office has no sense of feng shui, I'd probably go crazy too if I spent the majority of my time sitting in this cluttered office on a non ergonomic chair from the 90s. "...and this server just decided not to show up today, God, i swear I'd fire everyone if I could..." And the color choice is terribly drab. My closet has more space and color than this turd of an office. "...I don't understand it! I'm sick of this place..." Okay, I'm going to stare at his eyes and nod every three seconds. Then shift slightly towards my stack of cash every five seconds until he subconsciously gets the hint. "... I'm glad someone understands. You're the only one who ever truly listens to me, Diamond. I've never had a problem with you at all..." The irony almost made me want to actually try to empathize with this man, only I've tried that before. All his negativity just seeps into me if I allow it, and that's no way to go home to my two young boys. His ruddy, shiny face looked up at me in frustration. "I give everybody in this restaurant what they want. They want to cherry pick their schedule, I bend over backwards to honor that. They want free food, smoke breaks, whatever, I'm there saying yes to them. And you know why I do that, Diamond?"

I shake my head, not wanting to interrupt this night's tirade partly out of curiosity and partly out of exhaustion.

"Because when I'm there asking them to wipe the bar down or clean their tables, they can think back to all the times I've said yes to all their requests." He sat back in the chair with an air of disgust and shook his head. I figured this would be an opportune time to take my money and leave for the night, but he stared back at me, this time with a sharp look in his eyes.

"Everyone here demands respect from me, and don't want me to talk about them behind their backs, but what about when they're crowding around the servers stations snickering about me?"

His tone changed from an obnoxious rant to tired resignation and defeat. I couldn't help but think back to all the fat jokes and mimicry of his signature penguin waddle and his obnoxious voice...

I guess he could see my eyes widening in panic as I grasped at a response, and he went in for the kill.

"Everyone loves Damien, even though he's been an asshole his whole life. I'm a nice guy, I work hard, and I try to be fair, yet he comes in insulting employees and being a dick and all the girls come running to give him a hug. What does he have that I don't? Why does everyone hate me?"

The answer was glaringly obvious, Damien had rugged good looks, money, and status. Elbert had none of those, not even charisma to make up for it. Poor Elbert. What could I possibly say to him? I inadvertently shifted my eyes to the stack of money on his desk and inwardly cursed at myself.

"Oh I understand I'm holding you up. I'm sorry for ranting to you about me, I'll just do my job and hand you your money. Have a nice night, Diamond." His face was devoid of the raw humanity it possessed moments before, and all I could see was a caricature of a restaurant manager just doing his job. With a customary "Goodnight Elbert", I left his cramped office a half hour later than expected and blamed my lateness on Elbert, which garnered a few laughs from my coworkers at his expense.

The sun was much, much brighter than her memories, searing its relentless signature upon everyone's weakened eyes. Cam froze on the steps, unsure of whether the eagerness to step out towards the courtyard would surpass the first few waves of pain. She wasn't alone, as all the patients in the group instinctively covered their eyes with trembling hands- yet, the sun seemed to shine only for her, the trees remained that verdant hue for her pleasure, the sky continued to be as blue as her heart desired. Only the rustle of the summer breeze brushing against her papery hospital scrubs brought her back to Willowbrook, and for the first time she noticed the courtyard. A rugged circle of broken pavement surrounded a basketball and tennis court enclosed in an intimidating black chain linked fence, a far cry from the manicured picture in the brochures. With a surreptitious glance she carefully observed the others in her group: a few overweight men in stained shirts muttering about, a once beautiful woman marred with the sure signs of meth abuse playing with the bottom of her tight shirt to the amusement of a man with many face tattoos, Mary in her long robe clutching her tattered bible, and a young boy with smug blue eyes and gray hair staring right back at her. She wasn't the only one observing her surroundings. She noticed his eyes taking in the patients slowly adjusting to the change in environment and gaining momentum as teams were called for a round of basketball and the subsequent group of loners banded together to sit on the grass a modest distance from one another.

"Walk by yourself in complete silence! Today's lesson is mindfulness. Be alive in one instant of a moment, hear the birds chirping, feel the sun on your face!"

A 4'10 pixie with spiky black hair and a degree in Buddhist meditations was in charge of the depression group for the day. Cam tried to stifle a laughter as the pixie turned red when no one followed her orders.

"Are you gonna walk with me, or are you actually into all that mindfulness shit?"

Even though he was behind her she could hear the smirk playing along his lips. Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.