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It was the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, and already the leaves were starting their slow-motion death throes.
Never underestimate the human capability to make the worst decision imaginable.
On some level, she was aware that she was either the best person to have accidentally witnessed this tragedy or the worst.
Tomorrow, it would be Chuck driving the harvester while Pete and Leo would each sprinkle half their father’s ashes from the sky.
“kind of the micro-dick approach to getting high. If you want to get high, fucking smoke a joint like a man.”
But Leo, ever the contrarian, grabbed Pete’s because it was at his feet. He didn’t care—the packs were identical.
So he grabbed the toggles to the steering lines, planning to direct himself to the drop zone, and pulled down with his left hand. And nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.
the planet most days spinning only toward meanness, cruelty, and stupidity.
Which meant two things: The pilot was in on this. And Pete wasn’t the target. He himself was.
