The ground was gritty, cold. She opened her eyes to white, and the temperature of the surface below her was the only clue that she had actually landed somewhere solid at all. The pain in her body was a universal stiffness, sweet and feverish with no single point of origin or determinable cause.
“45 states voted today to bar Syrian refugees from entering the United States. The migrant crisis is one of unforeseen size, with over half a million displaced Syrians seeking new homes inside the United states. President Obama spoke to address the crisis, urging states to reopen their borders and not to give in to fear, because doing so-” Michael’s hand hit the radio power button on his dashboard and the woman with the disturbingly unaffected voice stopped talking. He rolled his window down a few inches, then reached under his seat to find the lever that reclined his seat. He pushed it back with the weight of his body, then folded his arms across his chest.
Plunk. He groaned. These shoes had come in the mail just yesterday, after weeks of waiting, and he hadn’t treated the leather yet. Not wanting to appear petty, he took a few more steps into the water, submerging the tops of the boots and feeling the flood of cool water over his feet. At least this was storm drainage, he thought, and not sewage, a common but fortunate misconception that was probably the main thing keeping vagrants and vandals out of this place. Continue reading “An Unedited Excerpt From the Thing I Wrote Because Some People have Asked”