In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all. These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight. They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth. I know when you walk away. I see you walk out, shoulders straight, head held high. Your pride walking two steps behind.

Ex Nihilo has moved to it own website here. The submission links have changed too. Expect surprises! It is raining incessantly outside my window as I type this.