[96 words]
I find the station where the long tracks meet.
It’s burrowed beside an old steel mill,
beyond the realm of airy skyscrapers.
The car I take rolls backward,
and that’s how I journey to High Point,
past rusted water towers,
past ruined mill homes,
past country stores crowned with faded names,
past farmhouses, their tin roofs collapsed,
to where she still lives,
independent, stubborn, stricken.
Two months? Three? They cannot say.
My brother and I will take two-week shifts
and care. And listen. And drink sweet water from the well
as we recall what is ours.
M. C. Tuggle lives and writes in Charlotte, North Carolina. His fantasy, science fiction, and literary short stories have been featured in several publications, including Mystery Weekly, Hexagon, and Metaphorosis. The Novel Fox released his novella Aztec Midnight in March, 2016. He blogs on all things literary at https://mctuggle.com/
