Walter Stanwick grabbed his usual newspaper and cup of coffee from the P&D Market on the corner of 53rd and Industrial. It was his routine. In Walter's world, consistency was the secret to a long life.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll overdraw your account." I've never liked this airport. The endless corridors of white on white remind me of a hospital, but this is the only place I can talk to Stewart after the heart attack. He's not always here, but I come every day to look for him.
Today he's sitting in his favorite spot in the departure gate, a corner seat connected to a low table. I tried sitting on the table once, but we can't talk unless I sit on his right, where I was for the trip to Hawaii. "That woman is asking about you again, Dustin," said Lucienne, the grad assistant. She'd braided her hair into a blonde rope that hung down her back. Like all his grad assistants, she didn't look old enough to drive.
Dustin ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. The morning sun slanted through the lab, and he realized he'd forgotten to sleep. I am sitting in a chair. The Man has put me here. He rubbed my head and I thumped my tail.
I look next to me and see another man. He is also in a chair. The Man is talking to him, but he does not say my name, so what he says must not be important. "It's time to take the children into the forest," said Stepmother.
Father winced. "Must we?" he said. I winced too. All the feasting in the world couldn't erase my memory of Stepmother angry, back when she was teaching me and Gretel to call her "Stepmother," and the man "Father."
by John D. Sperry
Published on Aug 20, 2014
by Tara Isabella Burton
***Editor's Note:Adult Language, Mature Themes***
Miles is an empath. "Gets it from his father," says his mother. "Always all about him."
Published on Aug 19, 2014
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by Melissa Mead
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