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The town was, after all, only a large ship filled with constantly moving survivors, bailing out the grass, chipping away the rust.
“Leo, the mistake you made is you forgot some hour, some day, we all got to climb out of that thing and go back to dirty dishes and the beds not made.
Like the ticking of a clock, the rumble of a dozen metal barrels rolling, the hum of a single immense dragonfly at dawn. Like a merry-go-round, like a small electrical storm, the color of blue lightning, coming, here, and gone. The trolley’s chime!
Such beautiful inventive writing!
The sun did not rise, it overflowed.
