Image by William Hatherell
“Wake me up, when September ends?”
“It won’t be that long.”
“See you in September?”
“Surely, they’ll lift restrictions before then.”
“You’re the one who keeps saying no.” Continue reading
Invitation to a Rave
mask
Shields Down
She’d gotten in near midnight, after her evening shift at the group home. Her own home was a shambles: beer cans and wine bottles, scummy bong water, butts strewn all over the floor, some of them human. They weren’t supposed to be here.
Rodney emerged from the bedroom, a very drunk, half-clothed Britanny hanging off his shoulder, sharing his satiated grin.
“Sheralynn,” Rodney drew up his familiar shield of nonchalance. “I thought you were working a double shift.”
“They sent me home. Likely COVID exposure,” she wiped her brow, unsure if it was fever, or rage. “Everybody out. Now.”
Valley of the Trolls 