People shouting. Dad pulled the car over and went to see if he could help. Mom told me to keep looking forward—not to look. But I did. I saw the frame: metal sheets, peeled back, reflecting the sun. Waves of heat rising from the asphalt. A little later Dad came...
by Jason Ward Boyte This morning I was baptized. Now I’m lying stretched out in the backseat with my legs up on the black vinyl. It’s hot. My calves and the back of my neck stick, but I don’t have the energy to move. Pastor Sherwood said the next flood would be fire. That...
