Happy Doomsday

by David Sosnowski

Feeling a bit empty inside, Mo fell in love with the image of the soul as a workshop where things were made of iron, pounded red-hot on an anvil, metal on metal, clang after sparking clang.

“So you want to make up a whole new religion just so a kid will stop asking questions,” Lucy said. Dev nodded. “That’s what religion was for, wasn’t it? That, and tax exemptions.”