Mike returned to the text he’d been working on all day. Maybe we should forget it happened? Have a nice weekend :)

Heeeeey, can we talk? and then, when he hadn’t answered. Are you freaked out? and then, when he hadn’t answered, Mike, can we pleeeeeeeeeeeease talk?

DEAD ZONE BY CAROLINE DE LACVIVIER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17

Rush hour on a Friday evening and the traffic was at a standstill. Thousands of people looked out their cars at the grim strip mall that went for miles—a fast-food playground, a shack bathroom, a windowless restaurant that served breakfast all day. Those in back of the traffic called their families to complain about the overpopulation of the planet.

At the front of the jam, kiddy songs sapping through the windows of their mini-van, the family stared at a steaming car wreck. An 18-wheeler lay on its side, blocking two lanes, and a little Honda, part crumpled against the guard rail, blocked the third lane.

The mother had slammed on the brakes. They’d been bumped by the car behind, but barely. The worst hurt was a neat bruise down their chests, the stripe where their seat belts h…