The World As It Could Be
They lay on the hood of Joe’s car, Joe and Tom, and stared at the cloudy sky. Shapes rolled past overhead, spirals and angles of white, words written across the dawning blue. They read what the sky had to say, content for a time just to lie still. After a while, Tom spoke up. The dreams were troubling him again. Joe was the only one who would even listen. If Tom didn’t say something, he would burst; if he said something to the wrong person, they’d label him crazy. “I had more dreams, Joe.” “Why am I not surprised? Weird ones, like...
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