Squishing Nemo Mishka ★ Editor's Choice

Nemo was plastic, bright as a traffic cone, with one fin permanently cocked in surprise. Mishka was plush, threadbare, and smelled faintly of apple juice and forgotten naps. They were not supposed to be squished. They were supposed to be looked at . Arranged. Kept safe on the shelf.

“Squish Mishka,” he whispered. It was a commandment. squishing nemo mishka

But Leo was three years old, and three-year-olds do not understand curatorial distance. Nemo was plastic, bright as a traffic cone,