It’s breath leaving your body. It’s tension disappearing from your shoulders—the churn in your gut settling. Exhale, reframe, unbend.

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Relief is the delicious alleviation that follows release.

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Physically, relief pulses reassurance between our brains and our bodies, indicating safety. The burden has been set aside. The obstacle overcome. We are no longer in danger. The pain—for this moment, at least—has eased. There is no need to fight anymore. In this way, relief signals resolution.

But relief is wider, more real and relevant, more tactile, more prone to opinion, than mere sensation. Relief takes the form of assistance in times of disaster, need, and difficulty. Relief can be delivered; it can just as easily be withheld. The extent to which we readily offer relief to those in need is a marker of our humanity.

For the writers and artists gathered together in this issue, relief is a welcome disruptor of monotony. It is a transition that mitigates distress. It is a marker of distinct vivid contrast. Relief emphasizes disparity. It is ours to give. It is ours to receive.

Try it out. See what happens when minor details are brought to the brink of relief.