by K. Wodke

Jack lugged their groceries to the parking lot, struggling against the familiar sick weakness. Knowing what he would find, he nonetheless gazed upward.

Lines of white stretched across the blue sky in a grid formation.

“My god, they’re at it again!” he mumbled, tossing sacks into the back seat of the car. “No one should have to put up with this, Pearl.”

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered softly, crestfallen. “Please don’t start that again.”

“Quit treating me like ...


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