"The Moon is a Wasteland" by Daniel DiFranco in SmokeLong Quarterly

Thomas woke up and took the moon out of his closet and went outside. He wanted to give it to Anne, the girl down the street with red hair who played violin and acted in the school plays. The girl he sat next to on the bus last year. The girl he slow danced with at the winter formal, who kissed him on the cheek and made his chest steal the staccato rhythm of Fourth of July firecrackers—the one who stopped sharing her lunch with him two weeks ago.

This one's a love story. Hope and heartbreak. Read story here.