• Dear Future Tenant, Room 312  Priya Riddle (below)
• What the Ice Said  Tess Albrecht
• Night Shift at the Sunoco  Dev Holloway
• Three Villanelles That Didn't Work  Owen Castellano
• Grandma's Recipe Box (fiction)  Bea Lindqvist

• Snow Day (prose poem)  Dev Holloway (below)
• The Bus to Altoona  Marcus Oduya
• Ode to the Hot Pot I Am Not Allowed to Have  Carmen Iturbe
• First Frost  Priya Riddle

• Seven poems and two stories by the four of us who started this, plus a drawing of the radiator that Dev swears is art.

The window sticks. Lift from the left side.
The radiator bangs at 5 A.M. like it has news;
it doesn't. It never does.
There is a star on the ceiling above the bed,
one glow-in-the-dark star, which I did not put there
and could not reach, and have never been able to explain.
I have decided it belongs to the room.
Please don't take it down.
On the good nights, when the hall is quiet
and the snow is doing its slow work outside,
it is the only light, and it is enough.
I hope you have a lot of good nights.
I hope you figure out the window faster than I did.

They never cancel classes here, so when they did, nobody believed it. We stood in the lobby reading the notice on the door three and four times, like it was in a foreign language. Then somebody said sled, and somebody else said with what, and twenty minutes later the entire second floor was going down Chapel Hill on cafeteria trays, which do not steer, which do not stop, which deliver you at a terrible speed into the hedge by the president's house. Nobody learned anything that day. It was the best day of the semester. The trays went back the next morning with the corners bent, and I like to think that somewhere in the Commons someone still eats off one, and feels, without knowing why, a little bit like flying.