You Aren’t What You Eat

Everything would be alright when they got home. John gripped the steering wheel for another corner on the rural lane, repeating the thought in his head. It had been a tough weekend, harder than any of them had anticipated, but it was under control, all over. They just had to get home and they could relax. He looked at the dashboard clock. They had plenty of time. Dusk was settling in, but they were almost home and there hadn’t been any noise from back there since they had left the camp site. The last hurdle was a toll gate on the edge of town.

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Writing Wednesday: Mag-Lev Conspiracy

Jacob Kelly didn’t particularly like it when the car fell on him. Strictly speaking, nor did he hate it as he didn’t have the mental capacity to form opinions at the time.