By: Paola Antonelli

It was not for the faint of heart.

By: Mark Dery

What pricks me is his mild, barely there smile.

By: Becky Stern

I brought the sweater to Maker Faire to show it off…

By: Seth

He welded a lot of unspoken love into it.

By: Charles Glaubitz

I was distracted by her beautiful eyes.

By: Nathaniel Rich

When the cheap ink began to fade, they seemed only to grow in value.

By: Mikita Brottman

They were irrationally overjoyed.

By: Kathryn Davis

One day toward the end of naptime Raymond slipped me a card.

By: Leah Hennessey

I was not available, but the entity to which I belonged was fictional.

By: Ben Greenman

He looked at the soup can and smiled. Then he signed it.

By: Greg Klee

Mine had a gimpy leg and it wobbled.

By: Lydia Millet

It was Frank N. Furter who compelled me most.

By: Dmitri Siegel

Our sound did not immediately find an audience, nor did it gradually find one.

By: William Drenttel

An artichoke sat on our kitchen windowsill for months.

By: Heather Kapplow

When I sifted the shards through my fingers, they felt good.