Corpumond reached for his fork. The purple sun hung low in the angry, blistered sky, its single bloodshot eye scrutinizing the scorched earth below.
“I’ll take what he had only with turkey instead of ham, american instead of swiss, and no tomato or onion.”
Joe stared, his simmer rolling to boil. “That’s a chick order.”
It was a dark and stormy night; the meteors came at them in torrents, except at occasional intervals when the SS Infinitum was buffered by the silhouetted shape of an orbiting moon
Squinting into the sun, it took a minute to spot what the kid meant. A pair of large white sneakers looped around the electric line stretched across the intersection.
JT was a small child with bright, keen eyes and a tiny mouth; she made it a point to keep secrets. Mom and Dad would watch her unchanging face, and gently prod her with questions.
The man sat beside her on the bus.
There were other empty seats, but his seat was the one next to hers.
She was looking out the window. Looking intently at something—like a cat.